Set the Fire
by WriterExtraordinaire
Summary: Post-Cuba. Another story I'm doing with another of my friends. She is Erik. I'm Charles. Erik cannot forgive himself. Charles cannot forgive Erik, but they still want to be together, though they are currently apart. Will they reunite?
1. Do You Dream of Me?

Forgiveness—it's a word said and preached by millions, but misunderstood by even more. Those who have ever been forgiven—truly forgiven of something horrible—know the power that forgiveness holds.

Pain—few people on earth have ever experienced raw pain. Scrapes, bruises, broken bones, a vaccine…all heal with time. But the pain of losing someone closer to you than anyone else in the world is hard to heal. There is no magic remedy, no stitches, no cure but to wait. And sometimes even waiting doesn't help.

For Erik Lehnsherr, pain and forgiveness never went together. If someone had caused him pain, there would be no forgiveness…just revenge.

Revenge, he thought, was a way to stop the pain. But he quickly realized that in the course of his revenge, he would be causing someone else pain…

Someone he loved…someone he thought would never ever forgive him again.

**.0.**

Magneto awoke with a start. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead and chest soaking his pajamas. This was the third night in a row he had woken up from the nightmare that plagued him every time he attempted to close his eyes. Shifting around the covers, Magneto sat up clutching the edge of the bed. He hung his head and steadied his breath, not knowing if setting foot on the cold floor was worth the trouble to splash water on his face. But if he went back to sleep, surely the nightmare would wake him up once more.

Kicking his feet over the side of the bed, Magneto rose to his full height, breathing in all the air his lungs could take. It was hard…the air was cold and it stung his nose. It was almost December, and Magneto could see that a light frosting of snow had already covered the hard ground. Though he loved the sun and its warmth, it reminded him too much of what had happened that past September. It reminded Magneto too much of _him_ and how warm and smiley _he _was.

In any sense, Magneto identified more with winter: cold and hard. They were opposites…they wanted different things.

Finally making it over to the small bathroom that adjoined his room, Magneto gazed at his own reflection. Instead of seeing the picture of health he believed himself to be, there staring back at him was a man with hollow eyes, slightly disheveled dark blonde hair, lips pressed into a hard line, covered in sweat, but haunted by something more.

Even though the newly formed Brotherhood was far out of the range of _him_, Magneto still couldn't help but feel like _he_ was always there with him.

Instead of just merely splashing his face with water, Magneto filled the sink and stuck his head underneath the cool surface. There, he had some peace, even for the moment. But soon the moment grew into a memory…the first time he had ever met _him_. In the three seconds that it took the metal bender to break the surface once more, all the memories of a certain telepath and him came flooding back. Magneto felt as if he had been hit with a truck. Everything that the two men had shared within their brief time together ran through Magneto's mind. Though he had repressed the memories from the very first day without _him_, it didn't matter; every scene played out in his mind.

Sinking to the floor of the small room, Magneto couldn't take much more. It was hard for him to relive those memories…even harder than those of the Holocaust and Shaw. They were right up there with the memory of his mother.

He shut his eyes immediately as he thought of _him_ lying in his arms, wounded, refusing to look up. It was too much to bear.

"NOOOO! PLEASE! I'M SORRY!" he began to sob. Then everything melted away.

.0.

Erik's eyes snapped open. Cold sweat had matted down his hair and made his t-shirt cling to his chest. Panting for breath, the metal bender turned on the bedside lamp with a flick of his finger. _It was all a dream_, he thought. _Nothing but a dream_.

But it wasn't just a dream, and Erik knew that. The feelings that were displayed through his subconscious were still felt inside his heart.

Placing his head in his hands, he repeated the final words of his dream over and over in chant.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

But Erik knew that it did not matter to Charles how many times he said he was sorry.

It was his fault and his fault alone. There would be no forgiveness…only pain.

As the sun began to rise, the first rays shone through the window of the small bedroom. Erik, who had remained awake the rest of the night, drew back the curtains and watched as a small piece of the world became illuminated. He knew that Charles would already be fully awake, but Erik couldn't help but wonder if he ever dreamed of him.


	2. The Last Thing

_He heard the gunshots as he dug his fingers into the soft sand around him in an attempt to push himself to his feet. He ignored them, even as he heard the clink that signaled bullets ricocheting off metal. The sound only reverberated through his eardrums once, however. After this, he did not hear what the bullets hit or where they lodged themselves._

_ He was finally on his feet, just putting on foot in front of the other, straightening when a pain unlike any he had ever felt before in his life overtook him. He opened his mouth in a silent scream, unable to voice his agony as he fell to the ground, the sand flying up around him as he did so._

_ He was unaware of anything that was happening for several moments. The pain made black dots dance in his vision and when he was finally able to clear them and the haze that had begun to grow on the edges of his mind, he heard Erik's voice above him, far above him, saying, " He opened his mouth in a silent scream, unable to voice his agony as he fell to the ground, bending his knee in an attempt to soften the impact. He gasped in shock and pain as the sand flew up around him._

_ He was unaware of anything that was happening for several moments. The pain made black dots dance in his vision. When he was finally able to clear them along with the haze that had begun to grow on the edges of his mind, he heard Erik's voice above him, far above him, saying, "You. You did this."_

_ A choking sound to his right accompanied this and he remembered what was happening, what had happened, who Erik was trying to kill. _

_Charles swallowed and gasped out, "She didn't do this, Erik. You did."_

_ He watched as the man he had come to care for more than anyone else in this world, turned slowly back to him, the hand he had raised carefully coming to rest on Charles' chest. There was a gasp of breath and a thud as Moira MacTaggert, the woman Erik had been attempting to strangle, fell to her knees._

_ "Us turning on each other, it's what they want," Erik said, his tone heartbreakingly desperate, "I tried to warn you, Charles."_

_ He stared into Erik's eyes, the eyes of the sea after a storm and tried to keep himself from telling him, yet again that the humans were not as bad as he believed they were, that they were just following orders, but the last time had spoken those words only moments ago, thousands of people nearly died and now he was dying. Here in Erik's arms on some beach he did not know the name of, he was dying._

_ "I want you by my side," Erik continued, his grip on Charles tightening, the pain in the metal-bender's voice, tugged at his heartstrings. "We're brothers, you and I. All of us, together, protecting each other." He licked his lips as he added in a voice that was, now, beyond desperation, "We want the same thing."_

_ "Oh my friend," Charles said, laughing sadly, softly, "I'm sorry, but we do not."_

_ He felt droplets of moisture, falling slowly down his skin and it was then Charles knew he was crying. He was not crying because of the injury he had just received, but because he knew, those six simple words changed, ruined the future he had planned so carefully each night when he could not sleep. Everything was different now and he knew, as much as he did not want to admit it, he knew nothing would ever be the same again._

Charles awoke with a gasp. He took several deep shuddering breaths, his chest heaving as he came out of the dream world within which he had been trapped for the past several hours. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to take in the rich, pure oxygen that came from the tube that was looped under his nose and over his ears, trying to keep the doctors and nurses he knew lingered just outside his doorway from bursting into the room at his unnaturally high heart rate and other less than normal vitals.

"Erik…Erik…Erik…"

The telepath did not realize he was repeating his old friend's name with each heavy release of breath until he had calmed himself down enough that his heart rate had returned to a reasonable level.

"Erik…" he whispered as he opened his eyes and stared at the white ceiling above him.

_Magneto._

That was the name he preferred now, wasn't it? Magneto. The name Raven had decided upon. It was clever Charles had to admit and it fit the metal-bender perfectly. The name she had given him was suitable as well: Professor X, no doubt short for Professor Xavier.

"_So how does it feel to be a professor?"_

"_Don't call me that. I can't be called a professor until I have a teaching position."_

"_I know, but it suits you."_

The conversation had taken place months ago, months before he had been taken to this hospital, before Erik, before any of this had happened, but it felt like years had past. Decades. Eons. Centuries. Raven was gone now, and he knew, even as he thought about her the pain in his chest was due to the fact she was all, but dead to him.

Glancing towards the window, the view to the darkened outside world, shuddered by the horizontal, metal blinds, he thought of how he been forced to extend his stay more than once because he kept going into cardiac arrest in the dead of night when he awoke from dreams such as the one he'd just had.

He had learned to control it now, but before he had not been able to and he had panicked, his body had panicked. Moira, the CIA agent who had inadvertently shot him in the back, had told him he'd been taken from the edge of death at least three or four times now. If it had not been for these instances, Charles knew he would no longer be here. He would be in the Xavier mansion with Moira and the other mutants, preparing to open his school for children similar to the ones he already knew.

Tonight, however, his was the last thing on his mind. The first and foremost was Erik Lehnsherr, the man he had allowed himself to trust, only to have him ruin his life, to steal everything away from him. Including his ability to walk.

It was after Erik had left him to die on that beach he'd realized he could not feel anything below his waist and it wasn't until Moira, Beast and the other mutant children had been trying to help him to his feet in an attempt to get him to a hospital that he had realized he could never get to his feet again.

_I won't. Actually…I…I can't…I can't feel my legs…_

He had been in such a state of shock, he had repeated those five words over and over again, until finally they sunk in and he realized he would never be able to walk again. He would never be able to walk again because of Erik. Moira may have fired the bullet that had severed his spinal cord, but it was Erik to flicked the bullet in his direction and robbed him of his balance and his ability to even simply sit up without a wheelchair.

Over the months he had spent in the hospital, Charles had gone from caring about him, loving him even, to hating him, detesting him, loathing him. As he thought about him now, his fingers curled into white knuckled fists around the pale blue and stark white blankets that covered him.

"Erik." He now spoke his name as a curse word, said it in a hiss. Once upon a time this had not been so, but things had changed and he knew he would, never again, think of Erik as the kind, gentle, if somewhat disturbed and haunted man, he had once cared for so immensely. Now he would always see him as the man who had nearly destroyed thousands of lives three months ago on a Cuban beach.

"Erik…"

Like when he woke up, the metal-bender's name was the last thing Charles uttered before falling back to sleep.


	3. You're Not Alone

Another night had passed during which Erik had not peacefully slept. It was considered foolish and unhealthy by the members of his newly formed circle, but Erik didn't care what they thought. As he stared at the broken man who gazed back at him with the same bloodshot steel eyes, Erik flawlessly put on the mask of power that covered his own pain and sadness. He had to be tough. He had to be in control at all times. He could not—would not—allow himself to slip again.

Once upon a time Erik had been kinder, more trusting; but those days had vanished along with any hope that he had in being with Charles.

_"I want you by my side," he said, pain dripping from every word. "We're brothers, you and I. All of us, together, protecting each other," he added clutching onto Charles like his own life depended upon the telepath's survival. "We want the same thing."_

_All Charles could do was give a small chuckle in response. "Oh my friend," he said, "I'm sorry, but we do not." _

_And with that, the man in Erik's arms turned away, forever._

The memory had played out in Erik's mind like a broken record for the last three months. It was a living hell. But of course he couldn't express his pain. He was a leader and he needed to act like one…no matter how much it hurt.

Steadily Erik moved through the cold steel grey corridors of the Brotherhood's new headquarters. Complete with the helmet he won from Shaw after he killed him, the maroon cape that blew behind him as he walked added to his façade of dominance. Passing the rooms of his fellow mutants, Erik relished the fact that he was not alone in wanting to rule over regular humans. There were other who were like him in his thinking, even if they weren't who Erik would have originally chosen to rule with.

Just as Erik strolled around the corner past Mystique's room, she opened the door with a force that could only be described as beyond aggravated.

"Magneto," she started, her voice flat and hard, "We need to have a talk." Erik did not bother to decelerate his walking speed down the hall.

"We can talk later, Mystique." He called back. Though he did value Mystique's opinion over any of his other followers', he did not feel the need to engage in any banter that she had planned.

But the answer would not satisfy the shape-shifter. Using her full voice Mystique hollered, "ERIK!" She knew he could not ignore his given name, especially when said with so much concern and force as she had used.

Erik couldn't ignore it either. Stopping mid-step, the man formally known as Erik Lensherr sighed in defeat. Erik turned on the heel of his boot and treaded back to the only true friend he had there.

"What?" He half-hissed, his tone leaning more towards annoyance than anger.

"Can I talk to you inside," she said, her voice softening as if someone might be able to hear. Erik, on the other hand, did not have time to play games with the girl who at one point showed up naked in his bed just to feel beautiful. It felt like years had gone by since that incident, but it had only been a matter of months.

"I don't have time for games, _Raven_," he snapped, spitting out her name as an attempt at a comeback. If she could get under his skin by using his real name, then he could to the same thing to her.

Hearing her name—her real name—being said for the first time in months shocked her, but then she grew serious. Rising up to her full height, her hair still flaming in the dim lighting of the hallway, she spoke her true intentions. "It's not a game, _Erik_—_"_

Another sting to his heart. "It's important." Her yellow eyes grew serious as her tone grew darker.

The metal-bender glanced around them to make sure no one was in the hall. He then pushed past Mystique and into her room, where she followed in after him shutting the door behind her.

Erik stood across from her, his hand over his chest. "What is this all about Raven?" He used her name not out of spite, but because it was only the two of them.

"I'm worried about you, Erik," she said. Her hard expression in the hallway melted into one of sincerity. Erik scoffed at this, though he knew that she was genuinely concerned for him. "I'm serious." And the hardened tone was back.

Erik took a minute to consider what she was trying to say. But Mystique continued regardless of whatever it was Erik had wanted to say during the pause.

"Erik, please just tell me what's wrong. I know you haven't been sleeping well and are more tired than usual," Erik turned towards the window, not wanting to hear anymore. But she kept going, "You're moodier than usual, you rarely finish your dinner, and then you disappear for the rest of the night and lock yourself in your room. If I didn't know you any better I'd say that you're acting like you have PMS, but I _know_ that's not the problem."

That pushed Erik over the edge. "Then what exactly _is_ my problem, Raven? Huh?" He was shouting now, all traces of decency and reserve gone. "If you know so much about me, then how about telling me what's _really_ going on instead of beating around the bush?" Erik rubbed his hand over his tired eyes, not even caring to hide the fact that she was right about his sleeping habits—or lack there of.

Mystique stood her ground through his rant and in a steady voice said what Erik had failed to say since the day he left, "You miss him." It wasn't a question, but a fact that was unmistakably true.

There was a hard silence that passed between the two, lasting for what felt like hours. Erik had given up any sense of trying to hide what he knew he could not from Mystique. Instead he admitted defeat and sat down on the edge of her head, burying his helmeted head in his hands.

"Am I that obvious?" His question was muffled by his hands, but Mystique could still understand him.

"Only to me," she replied. Soon there was another presence on the bed. Erik looked out from behind his fingertips to find Mystique half-smiling, half-grimacing. "It's ok," she said taking one of Erik's hands in her own. "I miss him too."


	4. Selfish

The sun was coming up over the horizon. Charles did not know this because he was staring out the large ceiling to floor windows that were lodged into his study walls. On the contrary, he was staring at the papers scattered before him, trying to concentrate on his latest thesis on genetic mutation. The only reason he knew the dawn was arriving was the study had gone from being lit only by the oil lamps drilled into the wall, hanging above his desk, to being lit, if only barely, by a slight blue tinge. This was a clear sign the sun was rising. It was also another night he could tick off as not having slept at all whatsoever.

It had been only weeks since he had been released from the hospital and not a day had gone by without him being reminded what a weak, worthless human being he had become. Every day when he looked in the mirror after yet another sleepless night, every morning when he saw, yet again, the dark, dark circles under his eyes – the result of one too many nights devoid of rest – he felt disgusted and angry. Disgusted at himself for letting this happen, for falling this far from grace, and angry at Erik for just pushing him off that edge, practically throwing him off of that cliff he had been standing on before September 29th.

Aggravated at having lost yet another night's worth of sleep, Charles slammed his fists down on his desk hard. He watched as papers jumped and his pens rattled from the sheer force with which he had hit the desk. He instantly regretted his extreme display of emotion and wondered how he could possibly tell anyone to calm their mind again when it was so clear he could not do that himself.

_This was not always so, _a soft voice reminded him as he placed his head in his hands and tried to hold back the tears that always welled up in his cerulean eyes at the thought of the time, the life he'd had _before_. _You were once able to keep your anger at bay. You were once able to stay in the constant continuum at existed between rage and serenity. You were once not so alone._

This was true. Once, Charles had been able to keep his anger under control. Once he had not been alone. He had been with someone. Someone he had cared for, maybe even loved. Someone whose name he still whispered every night before he fell into sleep.

"Erik."

He gasped the name now and dug his nails into his forehead, a grimace stretching across his cheeks as, not for the first time, he remembered the day they had first met.

_Charles followed the other CIA agents to the stairs that led to the space beneath the deck of the ship. A female agent, Moira MacTaggert, he had met at a bar the previous day, was following him. She seemed to be as upset as he did that there was not more they could do to capture the man they were currently pursuing. His name was Sebastian Shaw and, according to Moira, he was the one who had convinced a man with much power on a United States council to place Jupiter missiles in Turkey. It was for this reason that the CIA was interested in him and Charles could understand why._

_ "Stop, stop, stop!" he gasped suddenly. There was a presence in the water close to the boat they had previously been pursuing, a presence that, until now, he had overlooked. He gasped in pain and pressed his fingers against his temple, trying to silence the migraine that was slowly growing there. He turned on his heel, glancing back up the stairs, past Moira to the dark waters beyond the vessel. _

_"There's someone else out there," he gasped, slowly removing his fingers. _

_Opening the door to his right, he hurried back on deck and towards the edge of the ship. He gazed out across the water as Moira and another CIA agent joined him at the rail. Immediately, he saw a large chain rising from the depths as though it were moving on its own. He pointed to it, though it was hard to miss and added for emphasis, "There."_

_The chain twisted in the air before proceeding to destroy the upper half of the ship. Charles gasped as it did so. Once that part of the ship had been reduced to a pile of rubble, the chain broke off and a light glowed from beneath the boat. It took Charles a moment to recognize this light as a submarine and it took him a moment more to notice the presence he had felt in the water, the same presence that had dismantled the ship, was holding onto the sub as it sped away. _

He's trying to raise it, _Charles thought to himself, his eyes widening as he also realized if this man tried to do that he could end up severely injuring himself or worse. _

_Hurrying to the railing, he gave it a white knuckled grip as he yelled as loud as he was able to the man in the water beneath him, "Let go! You have to let it go!" He turned back to Moira and the CIA agent staring at him as though he had gone mad. He pointed to the man, creating a very visible wake in the water as the submarine dragged him along with it and said in a voice slightly filled with panic "You've got to help him. You've got to get someone in the water to help him." He turned back to the water, screaming again, "Let go! You have to let it go!"_

_It became clear to Charles almost instantly after he said this, that the CIA had no intention of helping this man and he was going to have to do it himself. Shrugging out of his jacket and kicking off his shows, he hurried over to a break in the railing around the ship and jumped into the frighteningly cold water exactly where the man was. _

_He saw him immediately. It was hard not to. He was the only thing blocking the blinding light that came from the sides of the sub. Charles wrapped his arms around the man's upper body, trying to pull him away from the submarine, but he could not. The man looked at him once, but other than that ignored his presence, continuing to try to do something that could potentially kill him. _

_Charles could not allow that to happen._

_He closed his eyes and delved into his mind, seeing nothing, but blind rage and desperation that all swirled around this man, Sebastian Shaw. Mentally taking a deep breath, Charles spoke to the man in his head, trying to get him to understand._

You can't, _he began in a tone that he hoped was sympathetic. _You'll drown. You have to let go. I know what this means to you, but you're going to die. Please, Erik. _His name came to him as though he had known it all along. _Calm your mind. _Charles added the last bit as an afterthought, but after the lights of the submarine faded only moments later, the man – Erik – allowed himself to be pulled to the surface._

_"Get off me!" he shouted, pushing Charles away. "Get off me!" _

_Charles let him go immediately, saying nothing, taking no offense to his response. _

_"Calm down," he said, reaching out to Erik, wanting to help him, calm him, only to be pushed away a second time. He turned towards the coast guard vessel barreling towards them and shouted, so they would not be run over, "We're here!"_

_"Who are you?" Erik asked, breathless from having been underwater for almost more than he could handle. He had light brown hair and navy eyes. His chin was tilted towards the sky in an effort to keep his face above the water lapping up against his shoulders and neck. He was clad in a black turtleneck and matching trousers. Charles took all of this in before responding._

_"My name's Charles Xavier." He said this in a tone far more calm than Erik's, considering he had only been underwater for half the time he had. _

_"You were in my head," Erik gasped, his voice sounding slightly panicked as though he were afraid of Charles. He spit out some seawater, keeping his gaze trained on the man in front of him. "How did you do that?"_

_"You have your tricks, I have mine. I'm like you. Just calm your mind!" Charles responded, flicking his hair to the side in an attempt to keep it out of his face. His tone was escalating in impatience and fatigue, though he did not mean for it to._

_There was a moment after this full of nothing more than the gurgle of the water around them and heavy breathing. Finally, Erik said in an almost conversational tone that tugged at Charles' heartstrings, "I thought I was alone."_

_"You're not alone," he said, smiling slightly, trying to reassure him with his expression. "Erik, you're not alone…"_

"Professor?"

Charles started, lifting his head from his palms and his mind from his memories, to see Hank, now known around the mansion as Beast, standing in the doorway to his study, a tray, of what appeared to be his breakfast, in his hands.

Forcing a smile onto his face, he began gathering up the papers scattered about his desk, stacking them on top of one another as he said in a tone so cheerful it was clearly false, "Hank, what are you doing up so early?"

The young mutant sighed heavily, closing his eyes and setting the tray of food on a table that was just inside the study door before making his way across the room to where Charles was seated and placing himself in the armchair across from him. He stared at the telepath for a moment, his eyes unreadable. When he finally did speak, his tone was matter-of-fact, and the question said as more of a statement, "You haven't gone to bed yet, have you."

The grin stretched painfully across Charles' cheeks faltered and his fingers, wrapped tightly around the edges of the papers he was trying to stack began to tremble. He licked his lips and turned away from his student as he said, his tone softer now, showing the utter desperation he was always trying to hide, "You should be asleep right now, Hank. If you don't get enough sleep, you could get very sick and you'll be no help to anyone if you're in the hospital."

"Compared to you, I get more than enough sleep." His expression of buried anger and underlying worry did not waver as he spoke.

Charles did not answer. He straightened the papers in his hands, lined his pens up on the side of his desk and shoved the sheets covered in typed words and unintelligible scribbles into the first drawer on his right. He ignored Hank's statement. He knew this to be true, but he did not want to worry the young mutant any more than he already was. He knew, just as well as anyone else, that the other younger mutants in the house – Hank included – worried about him incessantly. He hated it, detested it and had been doing everything he could without delving into their minds, to avoid it.

When silence between them hit the two minute mark, Hank leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees as he added, his tone far more soothing, his concern now blatant, "If you don't start getting some sleep, a at least decent amount of food and stop working every once in a while, you're going to have a heart-attack. You're far too young, professor."

Charles sighed. He turned away from the other mutant for a moment to run his palm over his tired face as he said, "I'm fine, Hank, alright? Your worry is misplaced."

"I don't think it is," he said instantly in response. "Three months ago, you almost died. Three weeks ago, you were finally discharged from the hospital after four surgeries and having your stay extended twice. Now you're back here and all you do is work so hard that I find you passed out on your desk every morning or still awake. You're killing yourself, Charles," the use of his name, rather than the respectful term a student normally calls a teacher, made the telepath turn back to the young man before him. "And maybe that's what you want, but the rest of us would rather see you live to be at least forty or fifty. The way I look at, what you're doing to yourself, what you're allowing us to watch, is more than a little selfish."

He said nothing more. He left the room, stopping only once to tell Charles what he already knew: his breakfast was on the tray by the door.

Hank was right, of course. He was killing himself and it was selfish, but, like he had known all along, his life didn't really matter to him anymore. It had stopped being something that was important to him the day Erik Lehnsherr left him alone on that foreign beach.

_No,_ he told himself again. _Not Erik. Not anymore. Now it's Magneto._


	5. Fix It

They had stayed together for longer than Erik had intended; hands intertwined, Mystique's flaming red hair on his caped shoulder, nothing but the sound of their breathing, but still sharing the same unspoken heartache that needed no words. _She misses him, too, _Erik thought bitterly to himself. _She was his sister for so long…they loved each other…and _I_ tore them apart._ Erik's head snapped up from the angled position it held on top of Mystique's head. _He_ was the reason Charles probably hated her. _He_ was the reason that she would cry herself to sleep every night for the first month and a half. Erik bowed his head. In his mind, he was going over every tragedy that had ever occurred to the people he loved. His mother, his father, Charles…and now Mystique.

Erik had been too caught up in his own sorrow to notice that Mystique had moved closer to him and was now rubbing his back. Though the gesture was supposed to comfort him, Erik only felt worse knowing that he was the one who had caused her pain, but could do nothing in return to alleviate it. The guilt was too much, knowing that he had possibly ruined another life that he cared for.

"Raven," he whispered gently, "Please, I don't deserve your sympathy, or your empathy." He rose from the bed and strode over to the window. The sun was shining, the sky was the perfect shade of light blue, and the rest of the world went on working, oblivious to the war that raged inside Erik's soul, threatening to tear him apart with each passing second.

Mystique looked up at him in wonder; eyes narrowed, mouth pulled up into a quizzical expression, and if she had visible eyebrows, they would be furrowed in confusion. "W-what do you mean, Erik?" She asked in disbelief.

"I mean," he started, not sure how to proceed without upsetting her. "I mean, you shouldn't be the one to comfort me—" He gave a deep sigh before continuing, "when I was the one who did this to you."

Mystique blinked back in shock. Even if Erik couldn't see her at that moment, he knew that she would understand. She did. Getting up from her place on the bed, Mystique came over to the window. Placing her hand of Erik's shoulder, she made him look her straight in the eyes. "You did _nothing_ to me, Erik. I made my own choice in coming with you."

Erik scoffed at this, turning away from her and moving across the room to the door. But that didn't stop her from following saying, "He knew I would follow you. He knew that it was what I wanted. And I don't regret it!" She was standing right in front of him, her yellow eyes glossy, on the verge of tears.

Erik couldn't take it anymore. "You don't regret it, do you? Then tell me why you cried yourself to sleep every night for a month after we left. Tell me why Shaw decided to kill my mother. Tell me why Charles got shot by that idiot CIA agent! Well I'll tell you why, it was because of _me_!" He had finally lost it. His voice was cracked and hoarse, the barriers of his emotions had broken down, and the self-control he once prided himself on maintaining was now a fleeting memory.

The weight of his words was too much to bear, even for him. Erik sank to the floor and threw his helmet across the room. "Everyone I have ever cared about is either dead or hurt," he said in a small voice. "And there's nothing I can do about it." He ran his fingers through his think blonde hair as he shook his head.

Mystique was crying now. Tears flowed freely from her eyes as she knelt down beside the broken man on her bedroom floor. "Erik…" She gently whispered. "Erik, look at me." Erik slowly moved his hands from in front of his face, now stained with salt from the silent tears he had cried. He met the shape-shifter's equally misty eyes.

Giving him a small smile, she said something that Erik would have never thought would come out of her mouth. "Yes there is." Erik rolled his eyes and shook his head in disagreement. There was absolutely nothing that he could do to possibly make the situation better for anyone. But he would humor her, even just this once.

"And what exactly would you have me do, hmm?"

"Apologize." It was so simple, and she said it with a confidence that he had not heard in weeks, months even. Yet, it was easier said than done. All Erik could do was blink before frightening thoughts, worse than the one suggested to him, shot through his mind.

A thousand different scenarios went through Erik's head at the moment. There was he and the professor meeting together, smiling and laughing as if nothing had happened between them…Charles giving Erik the tongue-lashing that he so rightfully deserved…Charles not even opening the door to see Erik…Erik not even going to see the professor at all, and therefore spending the rest of his life in misery…

All these things played out before Erik in a single second. But he knew that one thing was for sure: that Charles did not care about him anymore.

To Mystique, it seemed as if Erik had actually taken her advice into consideration. "Well?" She questioned, hoping that he would acknowledge her idea. She was wrong.

Rising to his feet, Erik had had enough of his own whining and pity to last him more than a lifetime. It was time to face facts, and the fact was that he and Charles were too different. "No." His voice was tight, and his head was pounding. Strutting over to wear his helmet had landed, he dusted it off and placed it back over his hair. Mystique stood bewildered at him. He knew that that was not the answer she had hoped for, but he needed to stop fooling himself. There was no way on earth that Charles would ever accept an apology from him. 

_ "You did this."_ It echoed from every neuron in his brain. _"You did this. You did this."_

"What do you mean 'no'?" The volume of her once soft voice rose to a near shriek.

"I mean exactly what I say," he replied coolly, but inside he knew it was a lie. "No, I will not apologize."

"Then what was all that talk about what happened to your mother, and Charles, and me?" Erik watched as her eyes narrowed again and her nostrils began to flare. He hated seeing her so upset, but it was necessary. He was the leader after all, and he needed to start acting like it again.

Adjusting his cape, Erik walked back to the door. She was fuming, and he felt horrible about it; about having her relive those memories too. "Thank you for letting me vent to you, but I will not apologize." His grip tightened on the doorknob. "We both know that Charles would never take us back, so there is no use in trying to fix something that was probably meant to be broken in the first place." He opened the door in one quick motion and took a step back into the real world.

Before completely exiting Mystique's room, Erik turned to face her one more time. "As you said before, you made your choice," his voice softened a bit, but no more than needed to get his point across. "And I've made mine." With that, he turned and shut her door with a heavy thud. _What have you done?_ He thought to himself. Erik stepped further into the hallway and began to head towards his original destination, all the while cursing himself in every language he knew.

_ She's right_, he concluded. _I need to apologize. But he won't listen, I know he won't. _Erik silently continued his journey towards the main room of the building where Emma Frost, Angel, and Azazel were quietly discussing plans to ensure dominance over humans. As he entered the room, Emma hopped down from her stool to greet him.

"Good morning Magneto," she said in an almost too seductive of a voice for Erik's liking. But hearing his new name made his head snap in her direction. He had almost forgotten about his new name. At that moment, Erik had made another choice: he _would _apologize to Charles, when the time came, and only if it meant being called "Erik" one last time out of forgiveness by the one person who mattered to him the most.


	6. Let Go

_Sand beneath his fingers, soft, warm, wet sand. Salty sand. Sand created over generations of the waves of the ocean behind him lapping up against the shore. This sand was the last peaceful, beautiful thing he would feel. Perhaps if he had known that then, he would have cherished that moment in the sand before he stood, before he heard the gunshots._

_ Gunshots. The sound reverberated through the air, splitting his peace in two. A metallic clink resounded only once. Then another gunshot, another, another. No more sounds of metal hitting metal. Only metal being flicked away into the soft, soft sand beneath his fingers. Soft, warm, wet sand. Salty sand._

_ He was on his feet now, the toes of his boots being buried in the sand as he forced his legs to straighten, to get to his feet, to push himself away from the soft sand. The warm, wet sand._

_ Then there was pain. Unimaginable pain. Excruciating pain. Pain that almost rivaled the agony of dying. The agony he had endured to save the man he loved. That agony was worth it, a price he had to pay for his love. This agony had no purpose, had no reason and for because of this, he could not even voice it. His mouth was opened wide in a silent scream, his fingers pressed against the small of his back where the pain was the most prominent._

_ He was in the sand again, now. The soft, wet, warm sand. It was then he realized he was going to die in this sand and he decided that was not such a bad thing._

Charles startled into wakefulness, the dream dissipating as he blinked, opened his eyes, became aware of the world around him. He was still in his study, his papers were stacked in the corner and his pens were still laid out side by side, near said papers.

He closed his eyes as he pushed his head up off the desk and saw the images again. The sand, his feet digging into it, the pain in his back. His fingertips wandered there now, rubbing against the scar that had been placed there after the seven surgeries that were meant to reduce the pain, but not cure the injury. The injury could not be cured, that much was clear to him now. It had always been clear to him, but as he sat in his study, the sun already high in the sky, his breakfast by the door now cold, it was more clear to him than ever before.

He drew his hand away from his back and placed his face in his palms. He tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. He was able to take away some of the exhaustion he knew lingered in his cerulean pupils, but he was unable to erase it completely. He was unable to take away the pain that now defined his expressions along with his everyday life.

_I want you by my side._

"Erik…" he caught himself whispering as he pulled his face out of his palms. He tried to take the word back, even from himself, but he was unable to do that as well. He had said Erik's name as he always did whenever he awoke or fell asleep. No matter how hard he tried to make it not so, the metal-bender was always on the edges of his mind, always swirling around in his subconscious, reminding him he was the reason he was now in a wheelchair and he was never coming back, not even to apologize.

_We're brothers, you and I._

Charles pushed himself away from the desk and using the little strength he had in his arms, he pushed himself over to his cold breakfast. He saw Hank had made him toast, strawberries and porridge. There was a cup of sugar next to the bowl of porridge and a plate of butter next to the toast. The strawberries were in a bowl and tucked beneath the bowl was a folded piece of a paper. A note from Hank.

Placing the tray on his lap and pushing himself carefully back to his desk, not wanting to knock his breakfast to the floor even if it was cold now and not as edible. He placed the tray atop the wooden table, pushing his papers farther away from the food, not wanting to get anything on them, before he lifted the strawberry bowl and pulled the note Hank had left for him.

_All of us, together, protecting each other._

Charles unfolded the note with the precision he might carve a statue, put icing on a cake or choose a birthday present for someone he loved. He straightened the paper, listening to it crinkle as the creases were undone. He licked his lips and ate one of the strawberries, before he lifted the paper to read.

_Please, Charles, eat this before it goes cold. Please go to sleep so you can wake up before the sun is halfway across the sky. No one wants to see you dead, Charles. Especially us._

The note was signed by not only Hank, but Sean and Alex as well. They each had drawn little caricatures of themselves as well. Hank's was a furry looking blob with glasses, Sean's was a messy haired kid with sound waves coming out of his mouth and Alex's depicted an angry looking boy surrounded by rings of red light.

He smiled at the pictures and set the note aside before pouring a mass amount of sugar onto his porridge, lathered butter onto his toast and eating them as though he had not eaten anything in weeks.

"We mean it, you know."

The voice of Alex Summers made Charles jump out of his skin for the second time that day. He was halfway through his cold porridge as well as his small stack of toast when the younger mutant entered the room. He had been so engrossed in eating that he had not noticed, heard or sensed his entrance into his study.

"Mean what?" Charles asked his mouth full. It was rare he used such poor manners and he quickly swallowed, wiping his face with a napkin before Alex could respond to his question.

He nodded towards the small note sitting on the edge of the telepath's desk. "That. We don't like watching you hurt yourself, professor," he said, moving to stand behind the place Hank had been seated only hours earlier. "I know Hank was already in here earlier to talk to you, but I don't think you listened to him, so I came to talk to you too."

Setting his spoon down in his porridge, Charles asked, "And if I don't listen to you, I suppose Sean is going to try and talk me out of my insomnia and eating habits as well?"

He was joking, so it was much to the telepath's surprise when Alex nodded and said in a tone that sounded as though he thought Charles should have known this already, "Yes. We're worried about you. There may not be as many of us as there once were and I know that the loss of Raven hurts you more than anything else, but you can't let the past rule your life, professor. You have to think about the present, you have to think about now, you have to try and understand that what happened, happened and you can't change it."

_We want the same thing._

Charles' head was already in his hands, his fingers running through his hair, before Alex finished speaking. He had opened his mouth to respond to the younger mutants short speech, but he was already asking him something else, something the telepath did not want to answer.

"You're still thinking about him, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question and it was spoken through clenched teeth in a tone that suggested the young mutant had yet to forgive the metal-bender for what he had done to Charles. When the telepath did not respond, Alex leaned over his desk and said in a soft voice that was full of nothing, but utter loathing, "What he did to you is unforgiveable, professor, okay? He's not coming back, so it's time you let him go."

_Oh my friend…I'm sorry…but we do not…_

With that, he pushed himself away and walked swiftly back the way he had come. Charles watched him go with tears in his eyes and found, as he lifted his spoon that he had lost his appetite and was unable to finish his breakfast.

_He's not coming back, so it's time you let him go._

Let him go. Let Erik Lehnsherr go. Was that even possible?

He stared out the window, watching birds fly past, the wind toy with the leaves on the trees, the sun beat down on the dewy grass.

Let Erik Lehnsherr go. Was that even possible? And as he watched a pair of birds settle into their nest in the tree closest to the house, Charles realized, no, it was not.


	7. It's Now or Never

_Drip, drip, drip, drip…crunch, crunch, swallow…clink, clink…slurp…scrape…clack, clack, clack, clack…_

Every noise was amplified to Erik. As he sat on the small couch that adjoined the kitchen, he watched in torment as his followers went about their daily routines. They were so at ease here; they had nothing to worry about, nothing that weighed on their hearts like lead. Angel and Emma were talking feverishly about shoes and new hairstyles, Riptide had taken to reading the paper, while Azazel charted courses for where the group was to head to next. And Erik just sat there taking it all in. It was all so…_human_. Surely this was not what he had envisioned when he took control. But then again maybe it was.

"_This society won't accept us. We form our own…"_

He shook his head, ridding himself of those thoughts. Those were the thoughts that had brought them there in the first place. But they were also the thoughts that had separated him from Charles. At that point, Erik knew that he needed to go and see Charles. No matter what he did in the future, his past would always be there to haunt him. He needed to apologize, to say how deeply and truly sorry he was for causing not only Charles's pain, but Raven's; for tearing up their family and taking away Charles's legs. There would be no rest for him until he had accomplished the task, and if he were to be forgiven, that would make life all the more worth living again.

The only question then was how to get away, especially from Mystique. Surely the rest of his followers would notice his absence, so how would he be able to slip away and seek the absolution he so desperately needed and wanted? More scenarios came into play as Erik remained motionless on the couch. It was only until Emma strutted her way over to him that he even noticed he had been withdrawn even more than usual. "Penny for your thoughts," she purred standing over him, hip cocked to the side in an attempt to gain a bit of attention from him. Erik remained still, but slowly turned his head to gaze up at her. She was pretty, yes—sleek, almost white-blonde hair, straight teeth, fierce eyes—but there was something cold about her, too. There was no depth, no warmth whatsoever. Erik silently thanked the Russian who had constructed the helmet as it hid his thoughts from the diamond-telepath.

"Is there something you need, Miss Frost?" He asked, slipping into a relaxed pose to keep his cover.

"You know you can call me 'Emma', Magneto." _My God, will she ever stop doing that? _Erik thought bitterly as her eyes began to smolder, obviously wanting something more from him than a friendly chat.

"Well is there something you need, _Emma_, or did you just want to say hi?" His patience was faltering. He needed a plan to get out of there and see Charles. There was no telling how much time he might have had left.

Emma returned his blank stare, the ends of her perfectly curved lips turning into a snarl. "No," she said, her eyes shooting daggers at him, "no, there's nothing I need." And with that, she spun around and left the room.

Erik gave an audible sigh of relief, which earned him a small giggle from Angel and a smirk from Azazel as he reached for his bagel. It was too much for him…he couldn't take it. There was a crash as Erik bolted up from the couch knocking over the small coffee table. He stormed past the others at the kitchen table, not even caring about the frightened and confused looks their faces wore. Once he was back inside the corridor, Erik unleashed the fury he held inside his heart. _Verdammt noch mal__alle in die Hölle__!_ _Warum hat__mir das passieren__? __Es tut mir leid..._

It was time. Erik rushed back to his room, almost in a sprint and began to make plans. He was going to see Charles. He didn't care if it took him weeks to get Charles to talk to him, but one way or another, they were going to be together…even if it was just for a moment.

**…**

That night, Erik made his escape from the prison that he alone created. Seeing as the cape and helmet were a little too conspicuous, he opted for his former attire of grey slacks, a black turtleneck, and his leather jacket. His clothes may have been a symbol of conformity to humans, but if it meant that Charles would talk to him, then he would wear a full suit of armor if that's what it took. Silently, he made his way down the secret path that led to the headquarters. _There's no turning back now,_ he sighed. As he stepped onto the gravel road that headed towards the nearest town, Erik began to feel somewhat at peace.

_"You know, I believe the true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity…There is so much more to you than you know, not just pain and anger, there's good too, I felt it. When you can access all that, you'll possess a power no one can match, not even me."_

A single tear escaped Erik's eye as he remembered why he had bothered to stay and help Charles in the first place. Charles believed in him—he believed everyone had good inside of them, but mostly him. And for that reason alone is why Erik took off into the night.

The taxi slowed to a stop in front of the massive snow-covered lawn. Even in winter, the Xavier mansion looked just as beautiful as ever. It was three-o-clock in the morning, and Erik knew that Charles and the kids would be sound asleep…or at least he hoped so. Erik paid the driver and exited the car, making sure to shut the door as quietly as possible. Suddenly he felt very small compared to everything around him and the task that he had set upon himself. But Erik Lehnsherr was no quitter. As quietly as he had left his own headquarters, Erik trudged his way through the ankle deep snow. _Hank and the boys really need to shovel this._ During his journey towards the front door, there was a small feeling of comfort and "normalcy" to think of Hank and Sean, and Alex, again…as if he had never left.

Quietly he continued, thinking of all the things that he would say in an attempt to gain forgiveness from Charles. Then there before him stood the entrance to the great house. Unlocking the door with his gift, Erik stopped and thought about what he was doing. He was breaking into a house to apologize to someone who never wanted to see him again. But he had to do it. He _needed _to. And if coming in in the middle of the night was the only way, so be it.

Erik pushed the door wide enough to let himself through, then shut it silently. Standing in the familiar foyer sent a small shiver down his spine. It looked the same as it had the day they all had left forCuba; like nothing had changed in the house, when everything around it did.

Not sure of what to do next, Erik took a moment to regain his bearings. _If Charles is in a wheelchair that means his room would no longer be on the upper floors of the house, and there are only a few actual bedrooms down here. _He had the idea, now he needed to put it in action. Walking through the dark hallways of the Xavier mansion gave Erik a small sense of peace, knowing that he had come this far. He reached his destination—the biggest room on the main floor—and quietly opened the door only to find it empty. The small sense of peace was gone, replaced by heartache. Then Erik paused for another moment, suddenly remembering who Charles was. _Wait, the man is a workaholic…his study._ He turned quickly and headed back the way he came. His heart beat faster as he advanced upon the heavy oak door that led to Charles's study. How many times had they come here and spent hours playing chess, discussing everything under the sun from the kids to music and art?

_"Shaw's declared war on mankind on all of us, he has to be stopped." Charles said after moving a piece. Erik looked at him, the hatred he had for Shaw pouring out from his eyes._

_"I am not gonna stop Shaw, I am gonna kill him. Do you have it in you to allow that?" Charles shifted uncomfortably, but Erik didn't mind it. He had is reasons for saying so, and Charles knew too. "You've known all along why I was here Charles, but things have changed. What started as a covert of mission, tomorrow mankind will know mutants exist, Shaw, us, they won't differentiate. They'll fear us. And that fear will turn to hatred."_

It all seemed so far away now. Erik gently unlocked the door and slipped into the room. There in at the far end sitting at the desk was Charles…asleep…in his wheelchair. A sharp pain tore through Erik's chest as he unconsciously shuffled his way towards him. The small table lamp didn't produce much light to the rest of the room, but it was enough to see what had happened to the man he once knew. He was pale—paler than usual—and gaunt, and Erik could see the faintest trace of lines creasing on his forehead as Charles slept. But alas, this was the man that he had left dying on some god-forsaken beach nearly four months ago. It pained Erik to see Charles in this state, but it killed him to know that it was his own fault. Kneeling by the chair, Erik buried his head in his hands. Silent tears made their way down his face as he looked up once more.

"I'm so sorry, Charles," he quietly sobbed. Knowing that the telepath could hear him gave Erik a little hope, but he knew that it wouldn't be enough. He would have to see Charles awake to finally make peace with himself.

_Charles leaned forward towards Erik, "Listen to me very carefully my friend, killing Shaw will not bring you peace." Erik looked squarely back at his friend._

_"Peace was never an option."_

Erik continued to repeat his apology. He knew Charles would hear it eventually, but he stayed by his side until the first rays of early dawn broke through the windows of the study. By that time Erik had left the house, and with one last longing glance back, he sent his thoughts to Charles, praying they would be heard. _I had to come to see you. I needed to say I'm sorry. Please, listen. You know where to find me. Goodbye, Charles. _

_I'm sorry._


	8. Inadvertent Gift

The moment Charles heard the door close, he slowly opened his eyes. He stared out the window, watching the sun come up in the east, watching the shadows stretch across his lawn and watching Erik walk down the gravel path that led off of his property back into civilization.

He could hardly believe what had just happened. Erik had returned to him, if only for a moment, to apologize, to kneel next to him and cry and beg for forgiveness. He had listened to him repeat the words over and over, _I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. So sorry, _as he pretended to sleep. He had listened to his thoughts of the past, of how he missed everything that had happened between the two of them. He had listened to Erik's final words as he walked out the door and into the rising sun and as he heard them, he knew he had to, somehow, make him come back.

Despite the hate he felt for the metal-bender, he still loved him. He loved him dearly. He loved him with all his heart, just as he hated him with all his soul.

It was because of this hate that when he had awoken the moment Erik opened the door to his study he did not open his eyes. It was because of this hate he had done nothing to soothe the sobbing man before him. It was because of this hate he had not spoken to him the words that he knew he most desperately wanted to hear.

_You already had my forgiveness, my friend._

However, as much as this was out of hatred, it was also out of love, out of caring. He still loved Erik far too much to comfort him with a lie, a lie that would never be the truth because as much as he told himself he was a forgiving person, as much as he told himself he always gave second chances, he was not sure he could this time. This time he wasn't sure he could put aside what had happened in the past and focus on the present.

For the second night in a row, Charles pushed his upper body up off his desk and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He saw Hank had, yet again, left a tray of food for him by the door, but today he ignored it. He was not hungry. He knew he was drastically losing weight because of how little he was eating, but he found he was starting to care less and less about anything that did not involve keeping his mind off Erik.

_They were right, _he thought to himself as he attempted to maneuver around the desk after straightening the papers he had slept upon. _I am dying._

It was a funny thought really, knowing he was slowly dying and, at the same time, not really caring. He knew he should. He had students to take care of, a house to look after, a school to open. But he didn't care. In fact, if he were to be honest, he was half hoping that he would, eventually, die. Then he would not have to live with this weakness, this regret, this pain.

_Listen to me very carefully, my friend, killing Shaw will not bring you peace._

As the words he had spoken to Erik so long ago replayed through his mind, he knew that death would not bring him peace either. He did not know what awaited him in the life that existed after the one he was currently in. For all he knew, there could be only infinite darkness after he closed his eyes to sleep for eternity.

_Peace was never an option._

Charles stopped moving towards the door and slowly closed his eyes. He put his elbows on the arms of his chair and placed his face in his palms. The words came unbidden to his mind, but they still hurt him just as deeply as they had for every minute they entered his thoughts after Erik left him dying on the beach.

They were the beginning of the end. He realized that now and he wished more than ever he could have changed them, could have shown his friend that he did not need to live with such pain, he did not have to live simply for the sake of revenge, but he had not been able to show him this. He had not been able to prove to him that there was no need for him to do what he had done.

_"This is what we're going to do," he said softly, his voice a deadly calm. He turned on his heel to face the man who had killed his mother. Charles saw it all through that man's eyes. He was holding him still, he was inside his mind. _

_ "I am going to count to three and I am going to move the coin."_

_ It was in this moment that the telepath gasped, panic coursing through him as he watched Erik release the coin from his fingertips, letting it rotate slowly towards the man before him. It was obvious he did not know what he was doing. He did not know that if he killed Shaw this way, he, Charles, would feel it too. _

_ He did not know. He could not know. Otherwise, he would not be doing this. _

_ "No. Please, Erik, no," he breathed out, though he knew his friend could not hear him. He was already sweating, already anxious, already terrified._

_ "One."_

_ The coin moved steadily across the space between the metal-bender and the man who had indefinitely ruined his life, his potential for peace, his reason for happiness._

_ "Please, Erik."_

_ The circular piece of metal flew carefully over Shaw's outstretched fingertips. Charles breaths became deeper, quicker, heavier. He wasn't stopping. He wasn't going to spare him the agony he would have to endure to save this man's life._

_ "Two."_

_ It was directly in front of his forehead now. Charles took several more gasping breaths, trying to prepare himself for the pain, but nothing could have prepared him for the agony that he felt after Erik quietly said, "Three."_

_ He was screaming, screaming at the top of his lungs. He was dying surely. No one could experience this kind of pain and live. He had to be dying. His skull was being drilled through, his brain was being torn to shreds from the inside. He had to be dying. He prayed he was. He could not live with this agony. He could not survive this._

Please! _He begged a God he had not believed in, since his mother married that abusive man who dared to call himself his stepfather. _Please! Just let me die! End this agony! I will do anything! I beg of you! Just let me die.

_But nothing happened. The agony continued until suddenly it was over and he collapsed to his knees, removing his fingers from his temple when he knew the coin had fallen to the ground behind Shaw._

To this day, Charles did not know if Erik knew just exactly what it was he had done the day he murdered Shaw. He wondered if he knew he now got intense migraines that made him black out, made him sick for the rest of the day because he had experienced death at the age of twenty-five and somehow survived. He wondered if he knew that the day he had left him, he taken away much more than his ability to walk and his only loving family.

As he took his head out of his hands and managed to get through the door, so he could start heading down the hall towards his destination, a voice filled with anger told him, _Of course he knew. That's why he did it in the first place. He never loved you Charles. He never has loved you and he never will love you because you are unlovable. You are worthless._

Charles winced. The voice was that of his stepfather and it made him want to curl up into a ball on his bed – his new bed – in his (new) room and cry himself to sleep.

When he turned a corner, reaching the ceiling to floor windows he had been heading towards all the while, another voice, a softer voice, calmer voice, the voice of his little sister, Raven, entered his mind.

_He doesn't know, Charles. He never would have hurt you that way if he had known what he was going to end up doing to you. He never would have harmed you so badly. _

Staring out the windows, looking out across his grounds, watching the sunlight dance on the leaves on the trees around him, watching birds flying to and from their nests, he closed his eyes, his face a mask of pain. Not because he did not know which voice to believe, but because he knew that had he not been so naïve to begin with, none of this would have ever happened.

_You've known all along why I was here Charles…_

He sighed. He had known all along why Erik was with them, with him. He was there because he knew that he would finally be able to get the revenge he so desperately desired. He would finally be able to stop his own personal suffering and begin an attempt at happiness.

It was not either of these things that Charles was against. It was the fact that it was at the cost of his happiness, his _life_ that Erik was able to gain both of the things he had wished and begged for since he was released from the concentration camps in 1945.

_You have done what many people would never do for the one they love, _Raven's soft voice said. _You have sacrificed your happiness for his. You have given him a gift that he never thought he would receive. _

Charles knew this to be true, but if he was going to be completely honest, he was not entirely sure Erik deserved the gift he had inadvertently been given.


	9. Come In

Erik lay down on the bed and stared at the blank ceiling above him. The clock on the nightstand said the time was six thirty-six, though time seemed to have stood still for Erik. Having just come back from seeing Charles, a part of him wished he hadn't, but the other part was overjoyed that he did. He had said his apologies, and even stayed longer than intended. So why did he still feel something was wrong…missing? Erik continued to stare at the ceiling, lost in the memories of what had happened within the past few hours.

He had seen Charles, yes that much was true, but the state in which he saw the man that he had once cared for as more than a friend was too much for his heart to take. Seeing Charles in that wheelchair, slumped over his desk, papers everywhere, pale and sickly, burned an image in Erik's mind that he knew could never be undone. _And it was all because of me_.

Erik stayed in his meditative position on the burgundy comforter, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what his followers were doing at the moment, wondering if he had done the right thing. And yet, there was a small glimmer of hope beyond all the doubt he carried. He knew that there was always the possibility that Charles had feigned sleep and heard every word he said. As insane as it sounded, it gave Erik the comfort he needed knowing that his apology had not fallen on deaf ears. He gave a small smile, but then turned it to a grimace as a new thought came to him

_ If he wasn't sleeping, why didn't he say anything? Oh that's right, he's too gentlemanly to interrupt…or maybe he just didn't care. _Erik glanced at the clock again. It was now seven twenty-four. He propped himself up and leaned back against the headboard. As much as he didn't want to think about going back, he knew he needed to…_It's the only way_, he thought. Shutting his heavy eyelids, Erik drifted off into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

**. . .**

When Erik awoke, the sun was higher than it had been when he fell asleep. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced at the clock once more. The time was one in the afternoon. Silently he swung his legs over the side of the bed and made his way to the bathroom that adjoined the room he had rented.

Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around himself and went to the mirror. Wiping the steam that had collected on the glass, Erik saw a person who he once knew, but hadn't seen in months. This person stood tall with bright, mischievous eyes. His skin was healthy-looking, and there was an air of confidence that radiated off of him. Much to his surprise, Erik realized that it was his own reflection looking back at him with the same cool smirk he used to wear. He was something like his old self again, and it was the most free that he had felt in ages.

Erik went back into the main room and quickly changed. This time he took extra care into everything he placed on his body, making sure that he looked as good as he felt. Combing back his hair, Erik marveled at the sight before him. _This_ was the Erik Lehnsherr that he knew: tan slacks, black turtleneck, sunglasses, and ready to take on any challenge. And he was ready.

Erik stepped out of the hotel and onto the newly-shoveled sidewalk, inhaling the crisp air as if his lungs had been starved of oxygen for days. Hailing a taxi, he ordered the driver to take him back to the mansion. The drive seemed to take hours. Erik sat anxiously in the back seat trying to go over what he would say to Charles. Saying he was sorry while he was asleep—or pretending to be asleep—was easy. But saying it to his face while he's wide awake? It seemed impossible, but so had been lifting Shaw's submarine until he actually accomplished it. Erik knew that he could accomplish this task…he _would _accomplish this task. Even if it was the last thing he did.

Suddenly, the wait was finally over. The taxi had arrived at the gates of the great house, and Erik took a moment to gaze at it with wonder. Paying the driver, he stepped out onto the path, taking in the sight of the house, remembering the first time he had ever set foot on the property.

_ Everything around them was peaceful, serene. Even the trees, which began to change with the weather, seemed to be content with the breeze that shook their branches and gently plucked the brightly colored leaves._

_ Erik stood amongst the group, gazing in awe at the sight of the mansion before him. It seemed so surreal, like a castle from a child's fairytale._

_ "I don't know how you survived in such hardship, Charles." He teased. The telepath smiled back and gave a silent laugh in return. The smile hadn't quite reached his eyes, but it made Erik feel at ease to know that his friend was happy to share his home with a bunch of kids and a man who was hell-bent on fulfilling his vendetta. Erik quickly glanced at Charles again. It didn't seem real to him, but it was. All too soon the moment of ease was broken when Raven stepped forward announcing it was time for the tour. Erik did his best to hide his curiosity and opted instead for a wry smile._

He had finally made it once more to the thick oak doors of the house. Erik hesitated a moment, debating whether or not to open the door himself or be polite and knock. For someone who had been so sure of himself only a few seconds before, Erik suddenly developed what felt like a small case of stage-fright. Inhaling deeply, he raised his hand to the door and gave five short raps on the thick frame. _Moment of truth_, he said to himself. There was no movement that he could easily hear from the inside. He waited another few seconds before deciding to knock again, this time using a little more force than before.

Another minute passed and a light wind nipped at his ears sending a shiver down his spine. _I bet they know I'm here_. He thought bitterly. _Of course they know I'm here. I'm not wearing the helmet. _He stopped for a moment, realizing then that he would have known—felt—if Charles had been in his mind. He decided to give it one more try before going in himself. As rude as it was, he didn't have time for pleasantries and etiquette. He needed to see Charles, and he was going to, even if he had to lock himself and Charles in a room together (which was probably going to be the case).

This time instead of knocking, Erik rang the doorbell in hopes that someone nearby would hear it, if not everyone. Stepping back from the door, he patiently waited for an answer. The wind moved faster as it whipped and twirled around the snow-covered grounds. Icicles glistened in the sunlight, but the cold was present and biting. Erik took peered back at the door which remained unopened to his presence. _I knew it._

He outstretched his hand, ready to open the door at will, when the door opened to reveal a mass of blue fur covered by a lab coat and glasses.

Erik lowered his hand and stood in shock. Of all the people in the world, Hank McCoy was the one who had opened the door for him. The scientist stood equally shocked, for before him was the man who single-handedly not only paralyzed his mentor and friend, but ruined his one chance at love.

Hank's expression quickly turned from shock to rage as he barred his teeth at the metal bender standing in the doorway. Erik saw the murderous look in Hank's eyes, and expected nothing less from him. He deserved it, but he wasn't going to let it get in the way of the real reason why he was there.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't take you down right now?" Hank spat through gritted teeth. Erik may have thought Hank was nothing more than a scientist, but he admired the spirit he had. Most of all, he understood why.

"If you did," he started, treading carefully with his words. "Then I wouldn't get the chance to apologize." His voice was hard, but his words were effective. Hank slowly straightened up from his offensive pose and stared puzzled at the man who only three months ago was ranting about how humans were the enemy. Erik looked straight on at Hank with a look of sheer determination.

"He's in his study." Hank stepped aside as Erik passed by him. He watched as Hank's eyes narrowed, following every step he took.

When Erik reached the door of Charles's study, he felt his heart race faster than it had during his night visit. It was as if a stampede had been set off in his chest, and there was nothing he could do to calm it. Reaching out to knock once more, Erik felt a presence behind him. Slowly he turned to find Hank towering over him with a threatening look of concern.

"Yes?" Erik asked cocking an eyebrow. Although he had anticipated this happening, his patience grew thin.

Hank put up a warning finger to Erik's face. "If you do _anything_ to him, I _will not_ hesitate to kill you." He dropped his finger and turned away from Erik, retreating to the sitting room where he would be able to keep an eye on things. If he had looked like his normal self, Erik wouldn't even think twice about Hank's threat. But things had changed; he changed, Hank changed, and so did Charles.

Before he was completely out of sight, Erik called out, "She misses you, too." Hank stopped mid-step, but didn't look back. Although he deeply missed Raven, she was Mystique now, and she had changed too much. As much as it hurt him, Hank continued on his way, leaving Erik alone.

Telling Hank that Mystique had missed him wasn't a lie, but it was good distraction from what he was about to do. He raised his fist once more to the door. At that point, time not only stood still, but it ceased to exist in the final moments before Erik heard the two words that would either lead to his salvation, or his demise.

"Come in."


	10. Cannot

After he awoke, Charles rolled into the kitchen to get glass of water, a bottle of scotch and stare wistfully up the stairs as he pushed himself back into his study. He forced himself to turn away, to keep his gaze fixated on the ground and not on what was behind him. He could not go up those stairs, he could never again see the bedroom that had been his ever since he was a small child and he was going to have to get used to that, understand that, though he did not want to.

_You will never walk again, Mr. Xavier. I'm sorry. _

That was what the doctors had told him when, they believed, he was well enough to understand what it meant. It was not as if he hadn't before. He knew what they were saying. He was a scientist. He had studied at Oxford University from the time he was eighteen until he was twenty-four. He knew what it meant when there was a GSW to the lower spine.

Now, back in his study, he poured himself a full glass of scotch and almost downed the whole thing in one swallow. He shook himself slightly as the liquid scorched his throat on its way down before he refilled his glass and set it off to the side as he began trying to revise the thesis he had already revised a thousand times and long since officially presented. He knew he should go to his bedroom and catch up on the sleep he missed, but when he slept he was plagued by dreams of Erik and Raven. If he was working, even if it was on something he had already finished quite some time ago, they did not enter his mind.

At least, not as often.

This is what was on his mind when the doorbell rang. He thought about moving to answer it, but he heard heavy footsteps crashing down the hall and smiled silently thanking Hank for going to the trouble to welcome or send away whoever it was at the door.

Turning back to his work, Charles did not hear the commotion at the door and had completely forgotten there was someone there to begin with until he heard a knock at his door. Even then he was sure it was Hank, come to tell him to eat, ask him if he could go train out back or force him into his bedroom to sleep.

He did not want to say yes to any one of these things. He wanted to be left alone to work in his study. However, he also knew that if he were to become a professor and open the school for mutants as he so wished to do, he was going to have to get used to such interruptions.

It was for this reason and this reason only that he forced a smile onto his face, though not looking up from his notes, as he said in a voice he hoped sounded more cheerful than annoyed, "Come in!"

The door creaked when it opened and it shut with barely a sound. Creasing his brow, Charles looked up, thinking this was very unlike Hank to be so quiet, until he saw who had truly come into his study.

Erik Lehnsherr.

He swallowed hard, his eyes widening. His hands began to shake and he did not speak as the metal-bender began to move steadily towards him. His first thought was that he had come here to kill him, to finish the job he had only started that day on the beach, but when he looked into his eyes, he saw that was not the truth. There was pain in those sea-storm eyes and, though it was not something that was unusual to see, it still was not a sight Charles had expected.

Once the initial shock wore off and Erik was standing directly in front of him, only a desk separating them, he felt the anger he had been harboring for this man well up inside of him. He grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he asked, "What are you doing here, Erik? Or should I call you Magneto? That is your preferred name nowadays, is it not?"

He wanted to smirk when Erik flinched, wincing at the name Raven had given him, but he did not. He kept his features emotionless as the metal-bender walked around the desk and knelt beside him as he had the night before. Unlike then, the telepath did not take his eyes off the older man. He did not trust him and he was not sure he could ever trust him again.

"What are you doing here, Erik?" he said again, unable to keep the exhaustion from his voice, when his old friend's purpose for entering his home had still not become clear.

The metal-bender swallowed, tears had formed in his eyes. He reached tentatively for Charles' hands and the telepath allowed him to take them, if only because he had missed this man's touch, not because he forgave him for all the pain, the hardship he had forced him to go through the past several months.

The other mutant stared at the thin, worn hands of his former friend who had gained the look of a dying man, and, after swallowing a second time, looked up at him and began in a soft voice, "I have come…to ask for your forgiveness…"

_Oh my friend…I'm sorry…_

The telepath could hardly keep his eyes from widening. He did not know what else he had expected the metal-bender to say, but for some odd reason, this was certainly not it.

"I have come to tell you that I am so very sorry for what I have done," the other man whispered. He was staring at their hands as he said this. "I have come to tell you that I will always hate myself for being the reason you can no longer walk. I will always blame myself for the pain that now dances behind your eyes. I will never be able to find a reason to forgive myself even if you can find it in your caring heart to forgive me."

For a split second, that was what Charles thought of doing. He thought of forgiving him and forgetting that all of this had ever happened at all. He thought of telling him that everything was going to be alright because they were together now and as long as they were together, nothing could ever truly be that bad.

_Erik, please, be the better man. There will be no turning back! _

The anger returned as quickly as it had subsided and he pulled his hands away, hissing, "How dare you. How dare you return after what you did! How dare you return to me and act like you care after you left me alone to die on that beach!"

His voice rose swiftly in volume and in a rage he was unable to stifle.

_No. Please, Erik, no._

"Do you know what you did to me that day when you murdered that man, when I _let_ you murder that man? Did you really believe that I would not feel it when you pushed that coin through his head? Did you really believe for a moment that I would not experience the agony you forced him to?"

He turned away, trying to calm himself, trying to let his anger out on the arms of his chair rather than through his voice, but this was a futile attempt, something that could not be done.

_Please Erik._

"I died for you that day!" he shouted. He took several deep breaths, trying to keep the tears he had locked away in his eyes, from overflowing and running down his cheeks. "And you repaid me by leaving."

He turned back to his work, trying to hide the fact his hands were trembling. "I'm sorry, Erik," he added, his voice full of vengeful remorse. "But I do not forgive you and I do not know if I ever will."


	11. I Promise

Erik had long stopped believing in things like heaven or hell. There was only life and pain. But in the briefest of moments that he remained kneeling at the feet of the wheel-chair bound professor, he realized that he was living in hell. Charles had turned away from him, back to the disheveled stack of papers that were scattered on his desk. He had refused to give Erik his forgiveness, his mercy; the only thing that would give Erik some sense of peace. It _was_ hell.

Erik trailed his eyes after Charles, watching as the wheels turned and carried him back to his desk. The metal-bender dropped his gaze to the floor. _You're right_, he thought. Erik slowly stood up and adjusted his clothing. Looking back at the door, he turned to face Charles, who continued to work hunched over his desk.

"You were right." His voice was tight and cracked as he spoke. Charles remained unmoved from his papers. Erik knew he was listening, so he proceeded. "You were right about everything. About how killing Shaw wouldn't bring me peace, about how those men on the ships were only following orders…about how it was my fault…" Erik looked down at Charles's wheelchair. His sea-storm eyes grew heavy with unshed tears. He pulled his gaze away in time before one made its way down his cheek. "But do you want to know something?"

He didn't wait for a response. "I didn't lie to you when I told you that I wanted you by my side."

Erik recalled the words that he had spoken that day on the beach. _"I want you by my side. We're brothers, you and I." _

As fresh tears began to form around his eyes, the desperation he felt transformed itself into blinding rage. How could Charles not at least feel _something_ after he gave his apology? Erik had poured out his heart and soul into coming back. He abandoned his followers, his cause, Mystique…all for him. He could feel his body tremble with anger as he continued to stare at the telepath. There was no more point between rage and serenity that could stop him now. Only pain and anguish.

"Do you know how long I have struggled to make the decision to come here?" His voice shook, knowing full well that Charles did know. There was nothing to hold Erik back now from the fury that overtook his thoughts and voice. "Do you know how many nightmares I have had of that day, only to wake up and know that it was real? To wake up and know that I was the one that did this to you? To myself? To Raven?" Charles paused momentarily at the mention of Mystique. Erik watched through scornful eyes as Charles continued after arranging his papers.

He then approached the desk and knelt by the edge as he had done during the night. This time, it was not out of love or necessity that he did so, but so he could make his point as clear as possible: he wasn't the only one to blame.

"Do you know how _long_ it took Raven to stop crying herself to sleep?" His voice was no more than a hoarse whisper, spat through clenched teeth and narrowed eyes. "She _never_ stopped caring about you! And here you are throwing her away as if she was the one who put you in this damned chair!" Charles raised his left arm and blocked Erik from view. With a sigh, Erik stood and moved to the other side of the desk.

Crouching down once more, he was able to catch a glimpse of Charles's bright sapphire eyes following him. He quickly brought his focus back to his work as Erik came down to his level again. "I know that you have every right in the world not to forgive me, but don't you _dare_ put any blame on Raven. You spent so much of your life trying to take care of her and show her what was best for her that you forgot to make her feel beautiful the way she is naturally! If you want someone to blame for making her leave you, go ahead and blame me! I know what I did and I do regret it, but _do not_ hurt her even more than you feel she's hurt you!" He slammed his palms against the desk as he stood.

Erik's chest began to heave as he grew irritated by Charles's pen. Using his power, the metal-bender levitated the writing instrument and sent it flying across the room before causing it to shatter in mid-air. Charles closed his eyes and placed his hands on top of the papers he was working on. Erik looked down at Charles on more time. His hands were balled into tight fists atop the arm rests of his wheelchair; his large eyes shut as new tears began to fall.

Erik stepped away from Charles's desk and turned to face the door. Suddenly, the rage that had controlled him so many times before subsided. The pain was still there, but he had grown accustomed to it. What had taken the place of the anger was sorrow; a deep sorrow that Erik knew Charles could feel as his own.

_ She never stopped caring about you, Charles_, Erik thought. _I never stopped caring about you._ He strode over to the door, not even bothering to give a backward glance. _And forgiven or not, no matter what, I promise will _never _stop caring about you._

With that, he opened the door and stepped into the grand hallway. He had come and did what he needed to do. It was over now. Walking back towards the entrance, he spotted Hank coming out from around the corner. He gave a curt nod and turned back towards the door.

Leaving the grand house, Erik thought of all that had occurred between him and Charles in the past few hours. In his life, Erik had never given up on anything. Though he left the mansion, he had not given up. It was just the beginning. He had said to Charles that no matter what, he would still care about Charles. And if he was truly the Erik Lehnsherr that had spent almost half of his life tracking down the man who had killed his mother, there was no way in whatever hell he was in that he would fail in keeping his promise.


	12. To Leave

Charles stared out the window, watching Erik leave his mansion for the second time in less than a week. He wanted to call out to him, tell him to stop walking, to come back, to stay with him, but he would not hear him. He knew this. He could call out to him with his mind. He could force him to stay, but he knew that if he did this, he would regret it. Erik would leave if he found out he had been forced to remain for the short time he did and it would be him, Charles that would then be begging for forgiveness, not the metal-bender.

_I won't make you stay. I could…but I won't…_

The words he had spoke to Erik the night he nearly left the CIA research facility, floated through his mind. As he thought about it now, he supposed he had said these words because he already knew that Erik was on the brink of deciding to remain at the facility with them. With him. And he knew all he had to do was show him that he could be trusted. Then, he was sure he would stay. He had been right.

Now, however, the right words had failed to come to him and it had not been because he did not know what to say. It had been because he could not calm his mind enough to speak clearly, rationally, to Erik. He had not been able to see past his anger, his bitterness towards the man he so desperately cared for, so desperately loved that he had, in that moment, forgotten he had ever cared about him at all. He had forgotten that everyone makes mistakes and everyone deserves a second chance.

In that single moment, he had forgotten everything he stood for.

He sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair as he did so. It was times like this that he wished things had turned out differently.

_Don't kid yourself, Charles, _the sneering voice of his abusive stepfather whispered in his mind, making him wince and begin to shake. _There is n0ot a day that goes by you do not wish things had turned out differently._

Though he did not enjoy admitting to regretting the past, this statement could not have been more true. He did wish, every day of his life, that things had not turned out the way they had and that he had the strength, the courage, to forgive Erik for what he had done. Then maybe things could change, maybe things could go back to the way they were before. Maybe Erik could learn to love once more and Charles could remember that forgiveness was a part of moving on, a part of life.

Pushing himself away from his desk, the telepath went over to the window and stared out at the trees casting shadows on his lawn, at the birds flitting between them, at the flowers pushing themselves up through the grass, at the wall that surrounded his estate, at the gravel road that was considered elegant, but was, in all reality, just a bunch of Band-Aid colored rocks thrown onto the grass around the house.

_He stared up at the façade of the mansion with the children. He was not in awe like they were. He never had been, though this was simply because he had grown up in this house and the enormity of it was not something he had found unusual. _

_ "This is yours?" Sean asked in amazement, still staring up at the building above him, his mouth open slightly, the shock showing clearly on his features._

_ Smiling, Charles turned to him and said, "No, it's ours."_

He gripped the arms of his wheelchair until his knuckles turned white and his fingers hurt. He hated this, hated these memories of happiness that once was and would never be again.

_Because of Erik, _a voice told him, while another whispered, _Because of you._

Sighing heavily, Charles watched as Erik's form became smaller and smaller as he continued down the driveway towards the street. What he was planning to do once he reached the pavement, the telepath did not know. There was barely anyone around for miles. He was always half glad that his mansion was out in the country, but for the metal-bender it would be a long walk back to civilization.

_Convince him to stay, _said a silent voice, this time the voice of Raven. _Convince him you love him, convince him to stay. _

He shook his head. He could not speak to Erik, not after the way he had just treated him, not after he had told him he was not going to forgive him, not after the metal-bender had just yelled at him, telling him not to blame Raven.

_Besides,_ he told the voice, _he has to decide to stay on his own. He has to decide he wants me to forgive him. _

He glanced towards the gateway to his mansion once more, the gateway Erik had still not reached. He knew just as well as the metal-bender did that if he left now after seeing him, if he left now and returned to Emma Frost, Riptide, Azazel, Angel and Raven, he would never forgive him. Nothing Erik did after that would be enough. Never.


	13. Merry Christmas, Charles

Two weeks had passed since Erik had gone to visit Charles. The ground had hardened over, and the snow crunched underneath his boots. Everything had turned gray and cold as the month progressed, and Erik found it only fitting to change with it. Ultimately he had decided to return to his Brotherhood (after a few days of debating whether to remain inNew Yorkor leave), who had all worried their leader had abandoned them. When approached by Emma on the day of his return, he resumed his façade as fearless leader and brushed her off without a passing glance.

Soon, things began to run as smoothly as it had before Erik had left. Breakfast, planning, small talk, jokes...even Mystique was in good spirits. It was the holidays, and even if they were planning on dominating the human race, Christmas and New Years' had to be celebrated.

Angel and Mystique had taken it upon themselves to bring the holiday cheer to the drab and dreary headquarters. They were soon decorating in bright colors, baked endless amounts of cookies, and sang carols all the time. Azazel and Riptide also joined in festivities, and even Emma cracked a smile when the other girls broke into a modified version of "Frosty the Snowman." There was suddenly life brought to the band of mutants, and all seemed well to everyone. Everyone except Erik.

As much as he encouraged them to continue their celebrations, the memories that he had pushed to the back of his mind of holidays with his family, and Charles tapping that memory, slowly crept its way back to the forefront of his thoughts. Watching Angel flutter up to the top of the pine tree that Riptide had blown down, Erik stood from his chair and left the room. Once he was back in the privacy of his room, he sat on the bed and buried his head in his hands.

It was all too much. The laughter, the smiling, the singing…all of it reminded him of his childhood before the Holocaust…before Shaw. And what was worse, he knew that Charles had seen and felt his happiest memory.

_Training during the week had been long and hard for everyone, including Erik. He hadn't realized that it would take so much effort to manipulate metal. He had been doing it all his life, so why should a simple week be any different?_

_It was a bright day when he decided to test his powers in the boldest (and most dangerous) way possible. Leading Charles outside to the balcony, Erik handed his friend a loaded gun. He was going to try and stop the bullet from hitting him, and he wanted Charles to be the one to pull the trigger. Charles took the gun reluctantly and held it straight in front of Erik's forehead. Erik grinned widely, preparing himself for what was about to happen. But nothing did._

_Instead, Charles put down the gun and said that he had something better for Erik to do to test himself. Charles brought him over to the edge, and faced out towards the lush green grass of the grounds. _

_"You see that?" Charles motioned to the large satellite dish that lay in a field of trees in the distance. "Try turning it to face us."_

_Erik turned and stared incredulously at his friend, as if he was trying to figure out the punchline of the joke. But it wasn't a joke. Taking in a breath, Erik turned back to the satellite and moved his hands as he willed himself to move it towards them. The energy that he had felt leave his body became too great, as if a massive weight was being thrust upon him. Surely he could do, it; he had tried moving bigger things before, and he summoned all the anger and hatred that had caused his gift to present itself in the first place._

_All of the sudden, Erik could take no more. He dropped his hands in defeat and leaned against the railing, gasping for breath with hunched shoulders. He couldn't do it. It was too much. Charles who had been patiently watching in the background now spoke up in his most placate tone, "You know, I believe the true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity. Would you mind if I…" Charles wiggled his fingers, gesturing that he wanted to see into Erik's mind._

_Erik nodded his agreement and Charles began to peer into his mind. Erik could feel his presence, and soon both men witnessed something that seemed long forgotten by Erik._

_It was on a mild winter night, Erik's mother had just lit the first four candles on the Menorah and started to light the fifth. Warm candle light illuminated her kind face, and Erik watched in wonder. Then the memory faded, and all that was left were the two men. _

"_What did you just do to me?" Erik whispered hoarsely. A single tear had fallen down his face, and he could see that the professor had started wiping away his own_.

_"I access the brightest corner of your memory system." Charles replied. His voice was moved by the experience as well. "It was very beautiful memory Erik, thank you." He said moving next to his friend._

"_I didn't know I still have that." Erik's emotions were running wild. He didn't know he could feel anything else besides the pain and anger that had caused him so much suffering._

_"There is so much more to you than you know—not just pain and anger—there's good too, I felt it. When you can access all that, you'll possess a power no one can match, not even me." Erik turned his gaze to meet Charles's, who then quickly glanced at the satellite. "So come on," Charles clapped Erik on the shoulder. "Try again?"_

_Erik looked back and forth between the satellite and Charles. He breathed in and focused on the memory of his mother. Her warmth, the happiness that he had felt, the excitement of gifts and sweets that were awaiting him…Gathering these things in his mind, Erik pushed through with his powers. Outstretching his hand towards the satellite, he could feel a tear roll down his cheek. The memory grew larger and soon, he could hear the creaking of metal as the satellite began to turn. It was there—he had done it. He curled his hand and it moved more to face them._

_He hadn't noticed as he was concentrating, but a broad smile appeared on his face. He dropped his hand and bent over, breathing in and laughing. He had succeeded. Charles laughed in congratulated him as well, smiling just as broadly, proud of what his friend had accomplished. There in that small moment of victory, Erik felt something pull at him. It was not anger or hatred, but life and hope._

Erik opened his eyes, now wet with hot tears. That had been the best day of his life. Killing Shaw didn't even compare to what he had felt that day with Charles—guiding him to reach his full potential. Nothing had ever compared, and he knew nothing else would. Thinking back to what he had saw that day—what Charles helped him see—Erik had remembered that it was in fact, the fourth night of Chanukah, and Christmas eve.

He then looked down at his left arm and pushed back the sleeve. There, the numbers that reminded him of his time with Shaw remained, telling him that once upon a time he had been persecuted for celebrating a holiday that had brought him so much joy as a child.

But that was the past. He was free to be himself now, do what he pleased. Wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, Erik pushed himself off the bed and went to the door. This was a time to celebrate, and he was going to be part of it. Erik opened the door to find Mystique crouched down holding a small parcel in her hand. Erik looked down at the shape-shifter with a quizzically. She gave a small smile in return and flushed a deep shade of indigo. Erik took her hand and helped her to her feet.

"Mystique…" he said. His voice was not threatening, but kind…amused, even. Mystique blinked in realization of this. She held the package in her hands a little tighter, not sure of what to do next. Erik tilted his head, wondering what she was had planned.

"I—uh—I got something for you." She stuttered, embarrassed that she was caught trying to leave it by the door. "I know that today is one of the days of Chanukah, and I just wanted to give you something."

She handed Erik the package. It was simple, no pretty paper or fancy ribbons; just plain brown paper and a string bow holding it together. Erik took it from her hands and watched as she ducked her head in embarrassment. He turned the package over him his hands, inspecting it, more just to tease her than seem suspicious. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth as he untied the bow. Mystique raised her head, and her eyes anxious and bright with excitement.

Erik began to rip the corners where the package was taped, and slowly slid the gift out of its paper shell. There in his hands was a small photo album. It was red and thin and the cover was plain save for the word "Memories" printed in flowing script. Erik's hands started to tremble as he opened to the first pages. Inside, pictures of Alex and Hank, Sean, Raven, Charles, and himself stared back at him. They were from the training week: dinners, down time, individual photos, candid shots…all there to remind Erik what had been, and could've remained.

For the second time that evening, Erik began to cry. They were not tears of hurt, but tears of joy. Mystique's smile grew as she watched her friend flip through the pages over and over again. "Do you like it?" She whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear.

Erik gazed at her. This had to be one of the best gifts he had ever received. His smile faltered a little as he realized that he did not have anything to give in return. "I do, but I feel bad not having anything to give back." He turned the album over one more time, feeling the leather and the embroidery of the thread.

"You don't have to give me anything, Erik. You've given me so much already." The shape-shifter smiled once more and turned away from her leader. Erik followed her with his eyes as she moved back down the hall. He looked the album over once more then called out to her.

"Raven!" She stopped mid-step and turned around and Erik grinned. "Thank you." He said softly, knowing that she would hear. Mystique beamed and nodded, returning back to the festivities leaving Erik alone with his gift.

Erik reentered his room and shut the door. Sitting on the bed once more, he opened the album and took his time looking at each picture with care. There were photos of Hank in his lab, Alex and Sean lounging around the den, Mystique in her blonde form…and one of himself standing at the back of the den next to Charles, the younger man staring up at him in admiration.

Erik angrily flipped to the back of the album. That had been a long time ago, and things were different now. At the end of the album were two pictures: one of Erik and Charles, and one of the two men and Mystique. Erik gingerly picked up the photo of Charles and himself. Turning it over, he noticed Mystique had written a message for him.

He read through the note, letting every word fill his soul. _She's right_, he thought. Erik glanced at the album again. _I may not deserve his forgiveness, but I at least deserve to be happy again_. Setting the picture back in its place, Erik left his room and headed towards the main living area. Everyone was already there, drinking, eating cookies, and just relaxing. As soon as Erik stepped in the room, all movement ceased as the group gawked at their leader. They didn't know what to think. Was Erik going to punish them? Were they going to have to stop?

As much as Erik would have loved to leave them confused and squirming, the corners of his mouth pulled up into a genuine smile. "Why did you stop?" He asked, almost playfully, with a new brightness in his voice. Mystique got up from her place next to Azazel and practically bounced over to Erik. She handed him a drink with smile and led him back to the rest of the group.

The evening continued smoothly as Riptide began telling Christmas stories that his mother had told him. Erik sat with his arm around Mystique as they listened and laughed at embarrassing holiday stories and failed cooking attempts. The clock on the wall struck twelve and soon there was a flourish of movement as they began to wish each other a merry Christmas.

Erik had moved to the side to let the others enjoy the rest of their night. He stood gazing out of the window and the blanket of white that covered the frozen ground. Looking out over the trees, he felt that familiar twinge of pain in his chest. He knew he could not ignore it any longer. He had been a fool to leave a second time, and he needed to go back. Erik glanced back at his followers, still smiling and tipsy from earlier events. He returned his gaze back to the window. It was a clear night and he could see every star in the sky. Erik looked down at his hand then raised his glass. _Merry Christmas, Charles_, he thought. Taking a sip of his scotch, Erik watched as delicate new snowflakes began to fall.


	14. Come Back

The holidays had passed in the Xavier mansion with little to no celebration. Christmas came and went with the giving of anonymous presents, left by the receiver's bedroom doors or at their place on the kitchen table. Hank brought in a tree and decorated it with Alex and Sean, but there were no gifts beneath it on Christmas morning and no one was really all that surprised.

Ever since Erik had left him a second time, Charles had been sitting in one of the winged backed chairs by the window in his study, staring out at the snow covered grounds, wondering if the pain in his heart would ever vanish. The more he watched the cardinals eat the seeds Hank threw out for them, the more he gazed at the sun making its way slowly across the sky, the more he began sleeping in his study instead of his bedroom, the more he began to realize that things would probably never become easier to handle.

It was now New Years Eve and he was there again, staring out the window, watching the world as well as his life pass him by on broken wings. He could hear music in the library as well as the younger mutant's laughter that sounded a bit too hysterical to be innocent. If things had been different he might have gone into the other room to tell them to put his whisky away before they hurt themselves, but they were nearly all adults. It was their choice to drink themselves to death. It would not be his fault if they decided to do so.

"Professor?"

Charles started, clutching at his heart and closing his eyes as he turned and saw Sean in the doorway. The younger mutant looked slightly punch drunk, but there was worry in his eyes and he wondered if he was going to give him the same lecture Alex and Hank already had.

Preparing himself for exactly that he licked his lips, took a deep breath and said, "Yes?"

Looking more than a little nervous, Sean stared at everything in the room except the man sitting in the chair by the window and his wheelchair nearby. Charles knew he pitied him, just like everyone else in the bloody mansion did and for this reason half of him wanted to yell at him to leave him to his misery. He could handle this sadness on his own. However, at the same time, he knew this would not help anything, so he waited patiently for the younger man to speak.

"Do you want to come and join us?" he finally said. "It's New Years Eve and it's almost 1963 and we were just wondering if you would just like to spend the beginning of the new year with us instead of by yourself."

He wanted to refuse. He wanted to stay in his study, staring out across the darkened grounds, watching the snow occasionally sparkle from the light that was cast down upon it from the windows high above. He wanted to remind himself that if Erik came back a third time there was not going to be any forgiveness in his eyes. He was not going to allow himself to remember that at one time he had been very much in love with him. He wanted to stay in his solitude and forget the world. However, the look in Sean's eyes was so hopeful that, much against his better judgment, he smiled and said, "Of course. I'll be right there."

The younger mutant took a step towards him to help him no doubt, before he thought better of it and returned to the library. As Charles began trying to move from the armchair into the wheelchair, he heard the room to the left of the study go silent for a moment, Frank Sinatra the only sound pervading the air, before it erupted into cheers. Despite himself he smiled. He was glad at least someone wanted his company.

When he finally entered the library, he was swept up in the commotion around him. The TV was on to the news, showing a man giving a speech about letting go of the hardships of the past year and allowing the New Year to be the only thing in their minds at the current time. Charles stared at the TV for a long moment, half wishing he could do exactly as the man suggested, before he was forced to join in the festivities the other mutants had planned. They still had an hour before 1962 left them. During this time, Charles enjoyed a game of Monopoly with all of the other mutants as well as a chess face off. In the end, it was only him and Alex left, which surprised him. He was even more stunned when the younger mutant won and claimed himself as chess champion for the evening.

While Alex was celebrating, the telepath glanced towards the television and saw a message flashing across the screen, announcing that 1963 was upon them at last. He gave a sad smile, thinking of all that had happened in the past year. He had loved a lot and lost that much more. It seemed unfair really that he had to lose more than he gained, especially with the life he had led up until this point. However, he reminded himself that life was not fair and there was nothing he could do to change the past. He simply had to force himself onwards into the future.

_Erik. _The metal-bender's name floated through his mind without his realizing and he knew that to move forward he was going to have to forget him. Even if he returned, he was going to have to forget him, tell him that there was no longer any chance of forgiveness, that he had given that up when he left him for a second time not too long ago.

Charles was pulled away from his morbid thoughts by the other mutants, who wanted to play some more board games to celebrate the coming of 1963 and the going of 1962. He only agreed because he knew if he told them to do otherwise, they would become angry with him and accuse him of remembering Erik and he did not want to get into a fight with them this early in the year, though it was bound to happen sooner than he would like.

It was close to three in the morning when they finally all headed off to bed. Charles started towards his study, but Alex pulled him back with a, "No you don't," and pushed him to his own bedroom. He allowed him to do so if only because he knew it would make the younger mutant feel better and maybe it was time to get more than a few hours of rest early in the morning long after the sun had been up for several hours.

After insisting that he could get into his bed on his own, Alex left him to go to his own bedroom. He knew that the three younger mutants would be up until the early hours he normally was, drinking and playing unsavory games as well as doing unsavory things that teenage boys tend to do. He did not say anything against it however. He simply helped himself into his bed and stared at the ceiling as he tried to find solace in his dreams.

_Remember…the point between rage and serenity. _

He closed his eyes. It was too bad this did not work for most things in life. He could lie here all night, for the rest of his life even and try to find the point between rage and serenity in an attempt to find sleep as well, but he knew he would not be able to. There was too much on his mind and the one person who had finally been able to give him true serenity was gone. He was gone and he had taken his little sister with him.

_You should hate him for what he has done, _the voice of Alex whispered in his mind. _All he's done is hurt you. Why do you love him?_

"Because there is more to him than the pain he chooses to let me see," he whispered in response. His eyes were still closed and as he said these words, images of Erik smiling – a rarity that he cherished – entered his mind. Images of the few nights they spent together, nights no one else knew about flooded his memories and he allowed himself to take a shuddering breath in remembrance of the man he loved.

_You were meant for me and I was meant for you._

The words of one of the songs from his favorite musical, Singing in the Rain, danced through his mind and he knew them to be true. He was meant for Erik and Erik was meant for him. And that was why, if he returned, he would forgive him because he needed him, he loved him, more than life he loved him.

_I cannot be without you, Erik, _he thought, tears filling his eyes. _Please…come back…come back to me…_

He felt the moisture in his eyes leak out of the corners and course down his cheeks. He took a deep, choking breath, trying to stop the sobs rising in his chest, but the attempt was a futile one and before he could stop it, he was crying like a child into his pillows, the only things running through his mind thoughts of Erik and his smile, his laugh, his love.

_Come back…come back to me…_


	15. Resolutions

The Brotherhood gathered around the small television set in the middle of the room. As the newscasters counted down from ten, the memories of the past year swam through Erik's head.

"…Five! Four! Three! Two! One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Cheers erupted around him as Mystique and Azazel opened bottles of champagne and poured it out for their fellow mutants. Erik gladly accepted a glass, and took a sip of the sweet bubbly liquid. The alcohol fizzed on his tongue, making him grimace. It was not his usual scotch or whiskey, but it helped him loosen up and enjoy the party.

Erik looked on at his followers, watching them celebrate the New Year. There was singing, dancing, drinking…they acted as if there wasn't a care in the world. It was a new year, a fresh start. Soon, they would be asking each other what their New Years' resolutions were. Erik took this into consideration. There had been many things in his life over the past year that he regretted—things he so badly wanted to change, but could not. _But I can now,_ he thought.

The small clock that rested on top of the mantle struck two. It was getting late, and though the metal-bender wanted to encourage the party to go on, he just needed to be alone. Erik stood up from the couch, ready to leave the room, but right as he started for the door, Mystique came bounding over to him, a smile stretching across her blue features revealing her pearly white teeth.

"Yes, Mystique?" Erik asked, slightly amused. If he knew anyone in the Brotherhood better than he knew himself, it was Mystique. She remained smiling and linked her arm around his. "Mystique, what's going on?" It was times like these that the metal-bender wished he had Charles' and Emma's gift of telepathy. Erik threw a glance at the latter, but she just smirked and shook her red hair.

Mystique pulled Erik to the front of the room, never letting go of his arm. The other members gathered around, their glasses of champagne in hand, ready to witness whatever was about to happen.

"Tell me what's going on Raven." He hissed through gritted teeth. She looked up at him then back at the crowd.

"Well, we were all thinking that with the new year and everything, that you would give a little speech. To, you know, kind of get us in the spirit." Her topaz eyes shone with excitement. But there was something more behind them that Erik noticed. It was almost as if she had really said, "Don't scare us by leaving like last time. Just tell us up front."

Peering into her eyes, Erik looked back at the rest of his adopted followers. Would they understand? Could they understand that he needed to leave, that he needed to make things right again? He had been a fool for leaving a second time, and he was not going to make the same mistakes he had made last year. Mystique moved back to sit on the couch and watch him. The silence in the room was about as comfortable as being strapped to a stampeding horse. Erik looked at each of the faces before him. They were not his family, save for Mystique—Raven. They didn't know his feelings (though he rarely even showed any, even to himself), his habits, his secret fear of bees. But there was one person who did. And he was five hundred miles away in a wheelchair, probably passed out in his study.

Erik's eyes landed on Raven, who was on the verge of tears. She knew what he wanted…what he was going to do. But she smiled anyway. "So how about that speech?" she posed. Erik could feel his face soften as he cleared his throat.

"This is quite unexpected, I must say." He looked around again, just to be sure he knew what he was about to do. He was ready. "Over the past year, there were things that had shaped each and every one of us. Sometimes for the better…or the worse. But one thing remains clear…" Erik paused, remembering one of the numerous conversations over chess that he and Charles had. With a ragged breath he continued, "Someone—someone very wise once said that 'we have it in ourselves to be the better men.' I didn't believe him at first, but now I see how right he was."

No one had said a word. There was only the sound of the fireplace crackling and deep breaths from those observing Erik, who had paused once more to collect himself. Raven sat helplessly on the couch, tears threatening to pour from her eyes as she watched the man she had once thought she loved grapple with his inner thoughts. She knew he was going to leave, and she wasn't going to stop him.

"Erik," she whispered quietly. He turned his head towards her. The pain that lay behind her eyes melted into happiness. "Get to the point." The corners of her mouth pulled into a shy smile causing a few renegade tears to appear and slide down her cheeks.

"Right, well—though we do have it in ourselves to be better, we all make mistakes. And I think I've made more than enough for everyone in this room. So as much as I thought this was what I wanted, I'm sorry to say that I cannot carry on as your leader."

Confused looks spread across the faces of his audience, except for Raven who continued to smile at her friend. She was practically sobbing, but never made a sound. The confusion then turned to anger. Angel was the first to speak up about Erik's decision. "What the hell? What about all that talk about humans being the enemy?"

Erik stood his ground as the questions flew at angry tones and decibels. He would not acknowledge or justify his actions to them. If they were so keen on domination, then they would be able to figure out what to do by themselves. But he couldn't be a part of it. Not anymore. After a few minutes of shouting, a new sound made itself present above the bickering.

A champagne bottle had been smashed against the diamond surface of Emma's hand. The attention then turned to their resident telepath, eyes narrowed and wide at her act. Releasing her grip on the broken bottle, Emma composed herself and turned to face her former leader. She didn't need to read his mind to know exactly what he was thinking. "You're going back." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes," he said, "I am. It's where I belong." Emma nodded, understanding everything now. Erik had never stopped loving Charles. And he would do anything for him; even if it meant facing the sight of Charles in a wheelchair, the constant reminder of what his rage and hatred had caused.

Raven stood from her seat and wiped her eyes. Grabbing the glass of champagne that she had left on the small coffee table, she raised it in front of her. "So what is your New Years' resolution, Erik?" A wave of relief washed over the metal-bender as he in turn raised his own glass.

"To not make the same mistake a third time." The two then drank from their glasses as the other members watched in disbelief. Just like his promise to Charles, Erik vowed to keep true to his resolution. The clock on the mantle struck three, bringing Erik back from his peaceful reverie. He set his glass down on the table and made one final address. "Ladies, gentlemen, it has truly been a pleasure, but I'm needed elsewhere. Happy new year."

With a sweep of his cape, the mutant leader formally known as Magneto exited the room. Once inside his quarters, Erik shed his costume as quickly as he was able and packed everything he owned. The small album that Raven had given him lay on the bedside table. He carefully picked it up and placed it on top of his clothes, just after taking out the picture of himself and Charles and neatly folding it into his jacket pocket.

Erik stepped back to the door surveying his now empty room. The walls retained the maps he had tacked to the walls, the bed was made, and the bathroom swept of all toiletries. There was a calm that had fallen on him as he stared at the bare room. He knew he had made the right choice in leaving once more, and this time it would be for good.

A knock then came from the other side of the thick door. Erik stood back as it opened by itself revealing Raven, tear stains visible on her azure skin. The smile that she had worn in the living room was still present. Erik looked down at the shape-shifter like a proud parent. The emotions were too much for him as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Thank you Raven…for everything." He whispered into her hair. She clung to him tighter, not wanting to let go lest he disappeared instantly like dust in the wind.

"I want to go with you. I want to go back, too." She sniffled. Erik pulled away from her and stared wide-eyed. Did she even know what she was saying, or did she just say that because she didn't want to lose Erik?

"Are you sure?" He searched her bright eyes for any hint of a lie, but found only honest hope. "Or are you just asking me because you don't want to lose me?"

"No, I want to go. I miss him too much. He was the first person that had ever cared about me…and I just left. You said that your resolution was to not make the same mistake a third time—" Her eyes became misty again. "Don't let me reach a second time by not going back."

Erik stared into her eyes again. He couldn't let her make his mistakes and never forgive herself. He couldn't just abandon her like he did Charles. He had already hurt one member of the Xavier family, he didn't need to hurt another. Sighing in defeat, Erik smiled down at Raven. "You better go and get ready then—" Her eyes lit up like the Christmas tree that still stood in the living room. "We'll leave in half—" Erik never got to finish his sentence. Raven attacked him in a hug before running off to her room.

_ —An hour._ Erik turned back to the empty room. It was almost eerie how he had just that previous morning, woken up in the same bed that lay against the wall. And now he was leaving—with Raven—for the last time, never to return to the coldness of the corridors and austere manners of the now disbanded Brotherhood.

* * *

><p>The taxi slowed to a stop in front of the heavy iron gates that guarded the extensive grounds to the Xavier mansion. Two days into the new year and already Erik could feel that something was going to go horribly wrong. But maybe that was just how he had learned to view things. Anything that gave Erik the slightest bit of happiness always turned out for the worse later on somehow. The universe had conspired against him, causing pain to those he loved and thereby himself in addendum. <em>No,<em> he thought. His knuckles began to crack as he curled his hand into a tight fist. Things were different this time. Things were going to turn out exactly the way he had dreamed they would.

Stepping out of the car, Raven—in her blonde teenage form—gazed upon her former home, just like the first time she had saw it all those years ago as a child. It was just as beautiful as she had remembered, and she could feel herself begin to cry. Erik quickly moved to her side. His expression of joy and anxiety mirrored hers of fear and nostalgia. Erik took her hand and opened the gate. They had left their bags in the trunk and told the driver to wait. It didn't matter to him, he was still getting paid.

As they walked up the winding path to the front door, Raven's grip tightened on Erik's hand. They remained silent, knowing full well that their thoughts were shared by the other. Soon the solid oak doors of the house stood in front of them. Erik's head felt foggy, and his heart pounded in his ribcage threatening to burst from his chest if the door did not open in the next few minutes. Now it was his turn to grip Raven's hand. She gave a faint yelp as one of her knuckles cracked under the pressure. Erik released his hold on her, muttering an apology. The two continued to stare at the doors, hoping they would open, and praying that they wouldn't.

Drawing in a heavy breath, Erik raised his hand to the door and gave three loud raps on the thick frame. He stepped back and looked at Raven, who even back in her natural form, looked a shade paler than normal. There were heavy footsteps coming from behind the doors. _This is it_. Erik's chest heaved as the footsteps drew closer. Erik began to fidget with his hands. The anticipation was suffocating, and he couldn't keep still. He turned his head from side to side, glancing up at the windows in hopes someone would see.

As the door slowly opened, there at the window closet to the entry hall, Erik caught a glimpse of a pair of bright baby blue eyes watching him with all the love and hate in the world.


	16. Changes Nothing

After New Year's, Charles took up residence in his study once more. Forsaking his bed for his desk, the telepath worked even harder than he had before, coming up with lesson plans, example theses, and ideas for how he could train all sorts of mutants.

He wrote out pages and pages of possibilities for how he could train a shapeshifter – like Raven – a metal-bender – like Erik – as well as a telepath – such as himself – and a whole variety of others which included teleporter, water manipulater, and fire controller. He was halfway through a list on how he would train someone who had the ability to become invisible when he finally fell asleep, his cheek resting atop his notebook, a bottle of scotch off to his right.

He awoke the next morning to someone shaking his arm. He sat upright immediately and regretted it just as quickly. He grimaced and held his head in his hands, massaging his temples as all of the blood rushed from his head to other places throughout his body. When the aching in his skull finally vanished he let out a breath he had not known he'd been holding and turned to see who it was who had awoken him.

It did not surprise when he saw that it was Hank.

He opened his mouth as though in an attempt to explain what he was doing there, but the younger mutant only shook his head and left the room, gesturing to a tray full of food he'd left by the door. Charles sighed as he watched him leave. It was so sad and so unacceptable that this young man was being forced to take care of a man who was slowly losing the will to live.

After he brought his food over to his desk, the telepath began working once more, writing down more and more training ideas, listing his assets and things he may need to buy in order to train other more bizarre abilities.

It was not until he had signed his name at the bottom of one page that he realized he had written a letter to Erik. He carefully put his pen down, flipped back one page and ran his own trembling fingers down the script. It was in print, not cursive. As much as everyone suspected he would do otherwise, Charles had always preferred print to the flowing, pretty looking letters that his mother had used to write her letters.

Taking a shuddering breath and licking his lips, the telepath began to read what it was he had written to the man he both hated and loved.

_My dearest Erik, _

_In these past few months, I have come to realize that love conquers all as does hate. There is nothing more beautiful or terrible than both of these things. Love is what kept me from harming you telepathically when you came to visit me before Christmas. However, despite this, hate is what kept me from opening my eyes and whispering my forgiveness to you the night you knelt next to my chair in my study, your head in your hands, tears running down your cheeks._

_ I love you, but I also hate you. I want to forgive you and at the same time I never want you to know what it feels like to have someone let your mistakes slide them by despite how horrid, how large they are. I want you to be happy and yet I want you to know only unhappiness for the rest of your waking days, even though that was all you knew in your childhood._

_ Can you truly blame me for the pain I have in my heart, the hate, when you and I both know it is you who placed it there to begin with?_

_ I am falling apart , Erik, I am tearing at the seams, I am slowly coming undone and there is nothing I can do to stop it because I am too stubborn to sleep in my own bed and I am in too much pain to keep myself from drinking myself into unconsciousness. I know now, as I write these words, that the only thing that can cure me from this insanity is the warmth of your touch, the beauty of your smile and the gentility of your voice. _

_ I am not going to lie to you and tell you that I do not wish every day things would have turned out differently than they did. I am not going to lie to you and tell you that I do not wish you and Raven were here right now and that you had never left me to begin with, that none of this had ever happened. I cannot lie to you. I still care far too much about you. However, this also means I am going to tell you that I do not yet know if I can forgive you. I do not yet know if you return if I will be able to greet you and allow myself as well as yourself the joy of seeing your faces once more. _

_ I never stopped loving you, Erik. Even when you left me on that beach unable to walk on my own ever again. However, I do not know if I will ever be able to stop hating you for doing exactly that and I only ask that you forgive me for being so arrogant and proud. Maybe if you do this, I will be able to accept the apologies you whispered next to my wheelchair that night and finally, all of us will be able to move on._

_Sincerely, _

_Charles Francis Xavier_

There were tears glistening in Charles' eyes when he carefully set the notebook back down on the desk and when they fell they smeared the words, blurring what he had said to Erik into an unintelligible mess.

He put his hands over his eyes and allowed himself to sob with complete abandon, even when he sensed the minds of Sean, Alex and Hank on the other side of the door, each of them having different reactions to hearing their beloved professor crying so hard he could pause for barely a moment to gasp for breath.

Sean was quietly sorrowful. Alex was angry that Erik would hurt him so badly. And Hank was a combination of the two with a little anger thrown towards Charles as well. It was an anger he supposed he deserved. He was not taking care of himself. In a way he was slowly dying and if he died, what would the three of them do? They did not have enough money to keep the mansion and Charles had never written a will as to whom his fortune should go to should he die.

It was as he was thinking he should probably write said will that he heard a knock at the door and a scrambling from the boys in front of the door to get away before realized they had been there to begin with, though it was already too late for that.

"I'll get it!" Hank shouted, rushing down the hall towards the large oak front doors.

The moment he heard the knocking, Charles had pushed himself over to the window, looking down to see who it was that was requesting his presence this early in the morning. He checked the clock and amended himself quickly. It was actually early in the afternoon. Either way, there was someone at his door and, even before he pulled back the curtain to see who was there, he knew.

Erik and Raven.

He felt his eyes widen at the sight of his younger sister and began to quickly pull the drapes back together, but not before the metal-bender turned and saw him staring down from his study. He swallowed, the sight of the older man's sea-storm eyes sent so many emotions coursing through him, he did not know if any of them were even remotely accurate.

Closing the blinds, he ran his fingers through his hair and moved around the room in what he supposed would be the wheelchair equivalent to pacing. He had not expected Erik to return so soon and he had told himself that if the metal-bender left he would never forgive him if he returned. If he was going to be honest with himself, he had expected him to stay away, having learned his lesson from last time, but he was wrong. He was crossing his threshold right now and this time with a suitcase, which meant he planned to stay.

It took Charles a moment to fully comprehend what those words meant and when he did he put his head in his hands, moving his fingers into his hair, tugging at the ends. How was he going to cope with living in the same house as the two people who had abandoned him on the beach? How was he going to stop himself from screaming 'how could you' at Raven every time he passed her in the hall? How was he going to keep from reminding Erik repeatedly that there was no longer such a thing as forgiveness in his heart?

How was he going to keep telling himself that despite what had happened, he still cared for them as deeply as he had the day he'd last seen them when his heart was breaking?

Sitting up, he leaned back in his chair as he heard voice in the hallway, angry voices. He was only gazing curiously at the door for a moment when Alex stepped into the room and shouted, "What is he _doing_ here?"

Charles didn't have time to respond before Erik entered the study, followed by Raven, Hank and Sean. The sight that met his eyes made the telepath sigh and close his own. He did not need this right now. Why couldn't Erik have just stayed away from him? Why couldn't Alex realize that this was his house too? Why was Raven even in his study? Hadn't she left him for a reason? Why did Sean look so nervous and why did Hank look a mixture of angry and anxious?

Alex seemed to be oblivious to the telepath's exhaustion, despite how obvious it was to the rest of the room, and when he heard the doors burst open behind him, he whipped around and flung himself at Erik, slamming the metal-bender against the wall, wrapping his fingers around his throat. It was clear he wasn't squeezing, since Erik did not look panicked, but the anger and vehemence displayed on the younger mutant's face was almost frightening.

Charles wanted to speak, to tell him to stop, but half of him said he should wait and it was this half of himself that he listened to.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you now?" the young mutant hissed, almost nose to nose with the metal-bender. Erik could have easily thrown him off, but he was allowing Alex to do what he wanted. He was staring at the younger mutant with what appeared to be amusement and it was clear this only intensified his hatred for the man before him.

The metal-bender glanced towards Charles, who turned away from him. He averted his gaze back to the initial threat and said, "I won't be able to make it up to him."

"How could you even do that?" Alex exclaimed, slamming his palm into the wall next to the older man's head. "He lost the ability to walk because of you. He forgot what it was like to live because of you and now, after all this time, you've decided to finally come back and make it up to him? Do you even know what you've done to him?"

Erik did not respond. He simply looked between Alex and Charles for several long moments before he pushed the younger mutant away and said, "I don't need your permission to talk to him or your words and judgments to make me feel bad about what I've done."

Though he was still turned away from him, Charles heard Erik take several steps towards him. He saw him kneel down next to his wheelchair out of the corner of his eye and say softly, "Saying I have come here to do anything other than remain by your side and beg for your forgiveness would be a lie and I am finished lying to you, Charles. I care about you more than you may ever be able to comprehend and not only do I want you by my side, I need you there. Please, please find it in your heart to forgive me."

Leaning his elbow on his wheelchair's armrest, he placed his forehead in his palm and closed his eyes, trying to take the exhaustion out of them as he said, his voice soft, yet commanding, "Hank, Sean, Alex, please leave. I must speak with Raven and Erik alone." When no one moved, he looked up and added, his tone slightly more irritated than it was previously, "Now, please."

There was a scrambling from the three boys and soon they were out of the room. He knew, even as Raven shut the study door behind them that they were going to come back and listen in on their conversation. He would not force them to do otherwise, but he wished that they had the decency to allow him a private discussion with his sister and the man he cared for.

Once he was able to find the strength, as well as the courage, to speak, he said in a soft, but clearly angry voice, "Why are you here? Both of you."

Raven, in her blonde form still, turned to Charles immediately. He watched with complete passivity as her deep brown eyes welled up with tears and her lower lip began to tremble as she said, "Oh Charles. I'm so sorry. We –"

Erik cut her off by holding up his hand. The telepath could see the glint of anger in his eyes as he said, "No, Raven. You don't need to apologize. That is my job. You have done nothing wrong. You are a grown woman and your choice to leave your brother was a mature decision that all children make eventually at some point in their lives." He turned back to the sickly man in the wheelchair, looking into his sky blue eyes, his brows slightly narrowed as he added, "There is no reason Charles should be angry with you."

Charles glared back at him, keeping his lips firmly pressed together as he refused to respond to the metal-bender's statement. He would not give him the satisfaction. Who was he to decide whether or not he should be angry with Raven? How would she have felt if it was him leaving her, not the other way around? Would she not feel abandoned when nineteen years ago he had taken her into his home and treated her as his sister, given her the utmost care?

To the telepath, it felt like a betrayal. After all he had done for her, she had left him alone, bleeding, weak, _dying_, on a foreign beach, in such complete and utter pain he was sure she would never experience such agony in her life.

"Do you understand what you did that day, Erik?" Charles whispered, now ignoring Raven completely. "Do you know exactly what happened to me _after_ you left?"

He had asked this question once before only then it had been to ask him if he understood what had happened to him on the beach. Now he was asking something completely different. Did Erik know what he had done to him when he left him to die on the beach? Did he know what had happened in the hospital afterwards?

The anger in the metal-bender's expression vanished and he said softly, "No –"

"Of course you don't," the telepath said, cutting him off. "How could you? You have been through much, Erik that much I know, but you have never had your dignity, your ability to do the simplest of things on your own, taken away from you. Your life has not been perfect, but it has not been aggravatingly difficult either."

His eyes were filling with tears. The grimace he had plastered onto his lips was to keep them from spilling over. However, as he took another breath, this hope was obliterated and, as he felt the moisture seep out of his eyes, coursing down his cheeks, dripping off his chin, he turned away. How could he allow himself to be so weak?

"I spent weeks waiting for them to tell me something I already knew simply by listening to their thoughts when they entered by hospital room to change my bandages, check the machines I was attached to or adjust the IV they had stuck into my arm. When they finally told me, I had already known for two months that I was never going to be able to walk again. However when they told me, it made everything too real. It reminded me, I had lost everything, even the ability to sit upright without support."

Charles glanced at Erik out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to wrap his arms around the metal-bender's neck and tell him all was forgiven before he kissed him with a passion he had never used to kiss any of the girls he did in college. He wanted everything to go back to the way things were.

However, he knew it was not that simple. How could it possibly be that simple? They had been apart for months and now that Erik had finally returned, he knew even if he forgave him immediately, the rest of the house would not. Particularly Alex and Hank. Sean would be angry with Erik in his own silent way and perhaps that would be the rage that lasted the longest save for his own.

The other reason he could not forgive the meta-bender right now was simply because there was still a large part of him that did not want to forgive so easily and he knew that unless that part of him vanished, he would not let this go. He refused to let Erik off the hook when he knew there was a chance that he could get angry at any given time and blow up on him again.

Licking his lips, the telepath sighed, and said softly in a voice filled with remorse, "I'm so sorry, Erik, but I cannot forgive you…" He wanted to add, _At least not right now,_ but he could not bring himself to make a promise that he had no knowledge he would keep.

"Charles…"

Erik's voice was softer than whisper and gentler than the summer's rain. He had come around to the front of the wheelchair and was half bent over, trying to look into the younger man's sky blue orbs. When he refused to look at him, he carefully turned his head towards him, wiped the tears from his cheeks and before he knew what he was doing exactly, leaned in and pressed their lips together.

Shocked was a massive understatement for what Charles felt when Erik's mouth connected with his own. It was more of a mixture of afraid, overjoyed, livid, anxious, and confused. He wanted to push away, but he did not. He didn't want to enjoy the kiss, but he did. He wanted to keep his eyes open and turn to Raven, to see the expression on her face at her brother being kissed by an older _man_ of all things, but he could not.

His lids fell over his eyes, darkening his world, putting him in a realm where only he and Erik existed. Only him and Erik and their love.

When the metal-bender pulled away, Charles' eyes were still shut, his lips parted slightly. He half expected the older man to lean in once more and give him the pleasure of feeling their lips connect one more time, but he knew that even then when he pulled away things would not have changed and it would be far too soon.

Slowly, parting his lips, he clenched his trembling hands into fists. He glanced towards Raven who had both of her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat and said in a voice that suggested what had just happened meant nothing to him, though it meant quite the contrary, "You may take your old rooms. We'll discuss things later."

He stared at the blanket draped over his legs as he spoke. He pulled at one of the strings there, waiting for Erik to leave and take Raven with him. The older man lingered before him for what felt like a lifetime and the longer he stood in front of him, reminding him of what had just happened, the more Charles trembled.

Finally, with a sigh, Erik straightened, and with a gentle, "Come on," to Raven pulled himself and her towards the door, away from the man he loved and who, he was sure now, loved him back in at least some way.

When he heard the door creak open, Charles looked up and said, "Erik."

The metal-bender turned back to him, his eyebrows raised in a questioning sort of way, one hand still placed on the wood of the door. Raven glanced back towards him as well, her expression just as quizzical at Erik's.

Steeling his gaze, the telepath said, "This changes nothing."

However, as his sister and the older man left the room, he knew that was not the truth. It changed everything. Whether that was in a good way or a bad way, he had yet to determine.


	17. Awkward

In all his life Erik had never felt more alive than he did after leaving Charles's study. Everything—colors, emotions, sounds, smells—swirled around him. It was like he had just taken his first breath of pure air, crisp and full of energy. Even Raven seemed to notice this. The shape-shifter trailed behind Erik, her eyes cast down, thinking of what had just happened not ten minutes ago.

_ We get to stay!…Wait a minute, Erik just kissed my brother…Oh, my God! He _kissed_ my _brother!The shock was almost too much, but she kept her face even, staring down at floor.

As they made their way back to their old rooms, Erik didn't even realize that she was still behind him until he stopped suddenly, causing Raven to crash into his back. "Ouch!" Erik shifted his head to find Raven rubbing her nose, an irritated scowl darkening her eyes. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he turned around and continued down the hall.

Erik took in everything that had happened and was happening around him. He was back. Charles had cared enough to let him and Raven stay. Or had it been out of pity? Had Charles really meant what he said about not being able to forgive Erik? If so, then why not turn him out of the house that instant? Surely if he had meant it, he would've stopped listening; tell them to leave…wouldn't have allowed Erik to kiss him.

It was so strange for Erik to think about what he had done, but it felt right. Erik unconsciously brought his hand towards his lips. The electric tingling sensation that appeared after he pulled away from Charles was still present. It hummed and buzzed making his lips feel warm.

_ "This changes nothing."_ Charles had said. That was a lie. They both knew it. Everything had changed the moment Erik had felt Charles give into the kiss. Now it was only a matter of time before everything was the way it used to be. Even though he knew that was impossible. Things would never be the way they were, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do to make it so. But he sure as hell was going to try. He needed to try—for both of them.

Erik didn't even notice that Raven had slipped away to her room. What was more was that he was surprised that he still remembered the way to get to his room. There were so many twists and turns, and each door looked exactly the same that it was easy for someone to get lost. But there he stood in front of the door that had held so many memories for him. He clutched the suitcase he had brought tightly, drawing in a heavy breath as he opened the door. Erik flicked on the light switch to find that everything remained the same. Nothing had been removed or rearranged from the last time he was there—not that there was much to move. Erik had only brought the things that he absolutely needed with him, and he had taken them the night that he left.

The bed was still made up from his last morning awaking in the house. A layer of dust had gathered on top of comforter, the nightstands, the dresser—Charles didn't even bother to cover them up. The thought gave Erik a small feeling of hope, but he shook them away thinking that it could only be because there were more important things than making sure the room formally occupied by your best friend, and the person who paralyzed you, didn't get dusty. Erik strode over to the bed and opened his suitcase, carefully taking out his clothes and placing them back in the dresser.

His suitcase was now under the bed, his clothes were put away, and there was nothing else left that Erik needed to do. What he _wanted_ do to do was an entirely different thing. Every muscle in his body ached and begged to go see Charles again. If anything he wanted nothing more than to just to be near him again, even for a moment. They were under the same roof now, so they would have to see each other eventually. But that also meant that Erik would have to see the others as well, and from their reactions earlier, he knew they would not be as easy to deal with as Charles.

Coming down the stairs, Erik moved towards the center of the house, glancing over his shoulder every so often just in case one of the boys was around watching him. He knew it would be foolish to go and see Charles again, and as much as he would've preferred staying away from the others at a time like this, he knew that interaction was inevitable.

Just as he suspected, Erik was suddenly shoved up against the wall of the kitchen, a heavy blue arm at his throat keeping him in place. He looked down at Hank, who was flanked by Sean and Alex, and saw a look that he knew perfectly well reflected in the all three pairs of eyes. Pure rage. Alex was poised at an angle, ready to unleash the energy that he produced if Erik so much as raised a finger. And Sean merely just stood by watching with his large green eyes, silently fuming. Erik would have used his gift to launch something at the boys, but that would mean causing more trouble than he wanted, and he was done fighting with them. They were only pawns. Erik wanted the king.

The four men stayed in their hostile positions until Raven came in and gasped at the scene before her. "What the hell is going on? Hank put him down!" She jogged over to him, her blonde curls bouncing behind her.

"You don't get to tell me what to do!" Hank snapped. Raven flinched and stepped back, knowing full well how much she had hurt him too when she left.

"Hey! Don't you ever raise your voice to her again," Erik shouted. Hank pressed down harder on Erik's chest causing the metal-bender to suck in an involuntary breath. "She may have hurt you, but she's still a lady. And this is between me and you guys only." He rasped. A hesitant look passed between Hank and Alex before Hank loosened the pressure on Erik's chest, but only slightly.

"I'm sorry Raven," Hank winced a little as he apologized. Erik saw the frustration and the sadness in the young mutant's eyes. He knew that Hank had meant to add, _"You should be the one apologizing."_ But it was too late—Raven had already accepted his apology, and Erik was able to breathe again as Hank removed his arm completely. All four pairs of eyes then darted to Erik as he began to smooth out his clothes. Alex was the first to break the deafening silence.

"So why are you _really_ here Lehnsherr?" With every word Erik could tell that Alex was ready to kill him.

"I already told you," his tone bordering on amusement, "I've come to make it up to Charles." Erik threw a quick glance at Raven, her face reddening as she tried not to giggle from the memory of witnessing her brother and another man silently declare their love for each other. The others then turned to Raven as well, puzzled and confused looks on their faces.

"Everything okay?" It was Sean this time who spoke up. Raven cleared her throat, nodding her head in response. She forced her face to remain calm, but it was no use. Erik already knew that she was well on her way to bursting into a fit of laughter exposing his secret. He cursed to himself as he maneuvered his way around Hank and Alex, grabbing Raven by the elbow and half-dragging her out of the room.

"Ow, ow! Hey, ease up Erik." He let go of her elbow and put his hand to his face. If she kept this up the whole house would know of what happened by dinnertime. Little did Erik know—though he did have his guess—that Alex, Hank, and Sean were not far away, listening in on their conversation.

"Did you have to cause a scene there?" His voice was a harsh whisper as he began to pace.

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a little?" Erik glared at her. She flipped her hair off her shoulder and continued, "It's not like I flat out _told_ them what had happened. And besides, they're probably going to figure it out anyway if you keep floating around the house like you did when we left his study." Had he really been floating? He did feel lighter than usual, like he was on a cloud…Erik shook his head snapping himself out of his daydream.

"I was not floating, and they _will_ figure it out soon if you keep shouting it to the whole house!" Erik forced himself to be even quieter.

Raven just shook her head in disagreement. "All I'm saying is that it's not going to stay a secret for very long, so you might as well get ready to answer a lot of questions when it gets out."

"Raven, if you say _anything_, I swear—"

"I won't," she interjected. Erik saw her eyes shift into their natural yellow. She was serious. "But then again I may not have to." With that, Raven turned on her heel and walked down the hall before heading up the stairs. Erik sighed and decided to follow suit, knowing that there was nothing more he could do until dinner. _Tonight's going to be fun, _he thought, bitter sarcasm filling his mind. When he made it back to his room, he shut the door and began to pace. Did he want people to know about the kiss? Did he even care? Of course he did! He had done it out of impulse—he didn't even know what he was doing until it was too late! The pacing then turned into Erik lying on the bed, collecting his thoughts; shutting his eyes in frustration. This quickly turned back into pacing—running his hands through his hair, groaning and cursing. As much as he hated to admit it, Erik realized that things would definitely not be the same—especially when it came time to eat.

There in the large dining room sat his judges and executioners. Erik slowly—but confidently—strolled in and took the seat next to Raven, who was seated across from Hank. Sean and Alex were seated on both side of the scientist, watching Erik carefully in case he tried something against them. Once he sat down, the group began to eat. No one spoke except for the occasional request to pass the carrots or the pepper. There was only the sound of clinking silverware against the china plates and the sound of liquid being drained from glasses. Ten minutes into the meal, Erik looked around the table observing the four young mutants. Alex began to push his carrots around with his fork, Sean had made a volcano out of his mashed potatoes, Hank had divided his food into different sections on his plate, and Raven just took dainty bites out of everything, making her meal last longer than everyone else. The only person missing was Charles, which made Erik frown a little.

"He eats in his study." All movement ceased as everyone's eyes darted to Sean. Those were the first words he had said to Erik all day, and everyone was surprised, none more than him.

"Why?" Raven asked. Erik already knew the answer: he didn't want to see them. Charles may have told the others that he had work to do, but he was just avoiding being in the same room with the man who had left him to die and the sister that abandoned him.

"He has a lot of work to do." Hank cut in before Sean could reply. _Figures,_ Erik snorted. Raven sat there wordless.

"Well that doesn't mean he should be eating in there!" she cried out. "How long has he been like that?" There was before Alex spoke up, his voice wavering as he tried to steady his breathing.

"Since he came back from the hospital." Raven looked down at her hands. The tension grew thick in the air. Erik didn't even bother to touch his food again. All traces of appetite had disappeared the moment Sean had spoken. He looked over at Raven who sat back angrily at the thought of Charles eating alone in his study. Even Erik was disheartened, but maybe it was for the best. He didn't know it he could handle sitting down to eat at the same table after what had happened that afternoon.

Raven continued to sulk until she muttered, "I can't take it anymore…" throwing down her napkin and pushing herself away from the table. The men looked up and watched her as he made her way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Hank asked nervously. Raven stopped and turned towards the table, cocking her hip to the side.

"I'm going to get Charles and bring him here." Hank's eyes widened, Alex's narrowed, and Sean's were closed, half-asleep. "I am going to bring him in here and make him realize that he can't stay locked in that stupid study of his for days without seeing anyone. It's not healthy, and he can't avoid us forever."

"Since when did you give a damn about his health, huh?" Alex accused. Raven stood her ground and looked directly in his eyes.

"I never _stopped_ caring about him or his health, so don't you dare think that I did." That seemed to shut Alex up for a while. He went back to his food glaring at Erik who had begun to smirk at the sight of him. "Now if you will excuse me gentlemen, I'm going to talk some sense into my stubborn brother." Just as Raven began to head for the door, it opened to reveal Charles, in his wheelchair, making his way towards her.

Erik's head snapped towards the man, as did the others at the table—even Sean awoke with a start from his light nap. He was weak, almost fragile-looking, but with a look of quiet determination on his features. Raven backed up, her mouth opened slightly as she watched Charles come into the room. "It's alright Raven," he said calmly. Those might have been the first kind words that he had said to her since she came back. "But that won't be necessary right now."

Hank stood up and moved the head chair away from the table to make room for the professor. He grabbed a plate and began to fill it hastily with food, almost spilling the gravy onto Charles's lap. The whole time Erik averted his gaze as best he could. He was glad that Charles had made the effort to come and be with them, knowing how much it must have hurt, but the dinner had been awkward enough without him there to bring up the feelings that Erik had pushed down momentarily for the evening.

Charles raised a hand to stop Hank from piling food onto his plate before it reached the ceiling. The young mutant gave a weak smile and returned to his seat. As Raven sat back down, Erik shifted uncomfortably, trying hard not to let anything slip from his face. If someone had walked into the dining room, they would've had to cut the tension and awkwardness with a knife—a really sharp one. Charles picked up his fork and scooped up a few carrots, hesitating before putting it into his mouth. Five pairs of eyes stared at the telepath anxiously, waiting to see if he would actually eat. Erik was gripping the tablecloth, his knuckles turning white as he held his breath.

"Would you all be so kind as to _not_ watch me eat, please?" His blue eyes shone in the light and Erik gripped the tablecloth tighter, restraining himself from walking over there and kissing the telepath again. "I don't think that would very appropriate at this time," Charles quietly muttered. He knew they all heard him, but he continued to eat.

Erik's face deadpanned as he heard these words, and he knew that everyone had their eyes on him questioning what had just happened between the professor and the metal-bender.

"What wouldn't be appropriate, _Erik_?" Raven asked, wiggling her eyebrows. Erik glared at her, the phrase _If looks could kill_, running through everyone's minds.

"Me jabbing a fork into your hand, _Raven_." He replied through gritted teeth. A small chuckle escaped from her lips. Alex and Sean exchanged quizzical looks before asking their own questions.

"Are you _sure_ that's all that wouldn't be appropriate?" Alex challenged.

"Yeah, because there have been a lot of strange things going on since you came back." Sean added, picking through his food again, a smirk playing at his lips.

Erik sighed and cocked his head towards the two boys. "Do you boys want forks in your hands too, because I think that can be arranged." His voice was menacing, but also annoyed. Erik threw a quick glance at Charles who had started to absentmindedly playing with his food, his fingers resting on his temples, completely out of it. Then all hell broke loose.

The familiar pressure of having Charles inside his head was nothing compared to what Erik saw. There in his mind the kiss between the two men was projected in full detail. Each touch, every breath, the motions Erik's lips had made played out in slow motion. It took Erik half a second to see that he was not the only one experiencing this memory.

"What the f—"

"Oh my word…"

"Duuuuude…"

"Charles! You're projecting!" Raven's voice cried out as she tried to hold in her laughter. Erik's anger at trying to keep what had happened a secret shifted into humiliation as everyone witnessed the kiss he initiated earlier that day. He buried his face in his hands. Now everyone knew. If he said something that would only make it worse. Not that it could get any worse than it already was. Raven had burst into a fit of laughter, Alex and Sean didn't even try to hide their shock and outrage—for all Alex knew, Erik had attacked Charles—and Hank had averted his gaze, staring at the table in embarrassment for having seen something so intimate.

There was nothing that would have made the failed dinner worse than Charles apologizing for not having realized he was projecting. "I am so very sorry…please forgive me…I feel absolutely terrible…" Erik couldn't take anymore. Between Raven in hysterics, Alex ready to murder Erik, and Charles just being Charles, Erik slammed his chair back and left the dining room, cursing himself and everyone else in the room. Everyone turned silent as Erik stomped up the stairs.

"Well that was awkward." Sean commented, breaking the silence. There were groans as Charles placed his head in his hands and Alex smacked Sean upside his head. Sean muttered a confused, "What?" before everyone got up to leave, still shocked and slightly embarrassed.

Erik practically tore his door of its hinges as he entered his room. _Why had he done that? Was he really so exhausted that he had to project the first thing that came to his mind_? Erik slammed the door. Falling down on the bed, Erik realized that the kiss was the first thing that had been on Charles's mind. It was the thing that he remembered the most and had clung to. And from the emotions that the projected memory produced, Charles had enjoyed it, a lot. It had meant something to him—something special. Erik groaned, flipping the pillow over his head. He was going to have to leave his room sooner or later, but in that one moment of shame, humiliation, and pleasure, he decided on later.


	18. One Word

There was a reason, Charles realized, that he did not come to the dinner table. Most evenings, he ate alone, in his study and it was not until now that he knew why. He had always assumed it was simply because immersing himself in his work was the easiest way to forget. About Erik, about Raven, about Moira and about the fact he could no longer walk. However, now, as he sat as his dining room table, his head in his hands, Erik gone upstairs out of sheer humiliation, he knew the truth behind why he was never at dinner. He was afraid of doing exactly what he had just done.

Normally, Charles was able to control his mutation. He was able to project when he wished to, read minds only when he wanted it done, and control them without the slightest hesitation or problem. Now, with the way he had exhausted himself, he was unable to do this. He had projected without provocation and he was sure that if he did not try to stop, he would begin reading minds without meaning to as well as controlling them.

However, this was not nearly as embarrassing as projecting his thoughts. Especially the ones he had shown just a moment ago. Had everyone really seen how Erik had kissed him? How much he had enjoyed feeling the metal-bender's lips against his own? How he wanted so badly to bring them back?

Apparently.

When he pulled his head out of his hands, he saw everyone staring at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation as to why they had seen what they just did, but he did not give them the satisfaction. He pushed himself back from the table and said, "I-I need to be alone. I'll be in my study if anyone wishes to find me."

"But professor!" Hank protested, standing to block his way. "Your food!"

The younger mutant gestured towards the hardly touched plate. Though his voice was full of worry, Charles could clearly see his eyes displayed anger as well. In a way, they said, _You promised you would take better care of himself._

"I seem to have lost my appetite," he responded as if to say, _I promised no such thing._

The anger flashed in Hank's blue eyes, but it was gone before the telepath had to raise an eyebrow and give him the look that told him he would not hesitate to force him to stand aside. Almost as though he knew what he was thinking, which, Charles reminded himself, he might, he stepped aside and allowed the professor to pass. He even held the door open for him on his way out, but he did not stop himself from slamming it behind him. The telepath jumped and turned to look over his shoulder at the rattling door behind him. He stopped moving and turned back. He put the brakes on his chair just outside the door and pressed his ear against the wall, trying to listen to the conversation going on within.

"Hank, what's the matter with you?" said the shocked voice of Raven.

"I'm sorry, _Mystique_," he responded, his voice full of malice, "but your _brother_ is going to die if he doesn't start eating and sleeping properly. I bring his meals to him in his study morning, afternoon and night and whenever I come back everything is only half eaten, that is, if it's eaten at all. Did you even notice how thin he is when he was in here? I have half a mind to admit him to a hospital, so they'll _make_ him eat."

Raven sighed. "I'm sure you're exaggerating. Charles would never starve himself to death. He's not that stupid." However, she did not sound as though she truly believed what she was saying.

"Isn't he?" Alex chimed in, his voice just as angry as Hank's. "Ever since he got out of the hospital he's been like this. We _rarely_ see him anymore. All he does is lock himself up in his study and drink and work all day.

"It's almost as though we're the owners of this house and he's just an occasional guest. It's kind of freaky in a way," Sean added, sounding slightly less stoned than usual, in fact, he sounded sad, very sad. Charles had not heard this kind of depression in his voice, since he had come to visit him in the hospital the few times he and the other young mutants were allowed to do so in the previous months.

"Well, he's obviously trying to forget something," Raven said, her voice contemplative as though she had no idea what it was, exactly, he didn't want to remember. "Have you tried talking to him about what that might be?"

"_Might_ be?" Hank asked, his voice incredulous. "You mean you don't know? Why don't you and Erik go take a look in the mirror? That might give you a good idea as to why he's trying to kill himself."

"The only thing he does when he's not in his study is sleep and we all hear him moaning your name as well as Erik's," Alex said softly. Charles heard the scraping of a fork on china as the younger mutant picked as his food. "He doesn't think we know he cries himself to sleep the few nights he actually sleeps in his bed, but we do." He sighed. "We do…"

There was silence in the dining room for a moment. Then a voice from behind him spoke.

"Isn't it childish to listen to other peoples conversations through the wall, Charles?"

The telepath turned to find Erik leaning against the wall near the stairs, his arms crossed over his chest. He was not smiling, but there was humor in his eyes.

Ignoring him, not even sparing him a glare, Charles turned himself around and rolled towards his study. The footsteps behind him signaled that the metal-bender was following him. He sighed and continued on down the hallway, not slowing or increasing his pace. He did not want to give him the satisfaction, he did not want him to know just how much he effected him, how he made his heartbeat faster, his hands tremble, his palms grow clammy.

"I could just make you stop, you know," Erik said, a rustling suggesting he had put his hands in his pockets. "Your chair is made out of metal. I'm choosing to let you run away from me, you do realize that don't you?"

"If you were doing that, then you would not be following me," the telepath said, speaking for the first time since the metal-bender had appeared. The moment he did however, he clenched his teeth and cursed himself silently for acknowledging the other's presence. He could almost hear Erik's smirk.

"Did you really enjoy kissing me that much?" he asked somehow managing to sound both condescending and contemplative at the same time. "I could always grace your lips with my own again you know."

For a brief moment, Charles stopped his procession down the hallway to close his eyes and let out a hissing breath between his teeth. _Give me the strength not to kill him, _he thought as he opened his eyes, pushing his wheelchair at twice the force he had been only moments before. He knew this would tire his arms more quickly, but he also knew that this would get him to his study more quickly as well and the sooner he got there, the sooner he could lock the door and –

He let out an exasperated sigh. He truly hated the fact that Erik could bend metal. It was so inconvenient and was going to make his life hell for whoever knew how long.

"Please, leave me alone," he said, finally responding to the question the older man had posed only moments previously. "If you want me to forgive you, following me around my house is not going to make me feel inclined to do so."

There was a shuffle that sounded more like a trip as Erik stopped walking for half a second at Charles' words. It was almost as though he half thought of leaving him alone, before he realized he did not want to give up on spending time with the telepath just yet. Apparently, he could endure far worse.

_And he has, _Charles reminded himself, closing his eyes and drawing his brows together in pain. Simply the thought of someone harming Erik in the ways he had been tortured in the camps, made him wince.

It felt like a lifetime before he reached his study and it was only when he pushed open the door, turning to shut it behind him that he saw the metal-bender once more and realized he had not spoken since his comment about his forgiveness. Now as he stared at him, he said softly his forehead creasing, "Did you mean it, Erik, that kiss?"

The metal-bender, who had been staring at the floor, looked up. His expression reminded Charles of a child who was trying to make up for breaking a vase, though he seemed to know that what he had actually broken was far more valuable and irreplaceable as an antique vase.

Licking his lips, Erik took a deep breath, saying only one word as he exhaled, one word that would, even after he closed his study door and sat working for the remainder of the evening on lesson plans, training ideas and theses, change his perspective on the metal-bender forever.

"Yes."


	19. Rules

Erik could not find sleep that night. After leaving Charles alone in his study, the metal-bender wandered aimlessly through the twisting corridors of the Xavier mansion; his mind wandering, thinking about what he had said earlier, what more he could have done, the joke (or threat) that Charles had made about forgiveness. Erik soon found himself in the massive library on the main floor. He had only seen the library once when Raven and Charles gave the tour of the house on their first day. Erik stood in the entryway, gazing up at the darkened columns of leather-bound books.

He began to move deeper into the heart of the library, and began to reflect on what had happened—and almost happened—again in the study. _What did Charles mean by asking me if I meant it? _He thought angrily. Did Charles really not know that Erik loved him? Did he not care? _Of course he cares or he wouldn't have projected the damn kiss at dinner! _Erik turned down a row, running his hands along the spines feeling their antiquity. _Why did he ask me if I meant it? He would know, wouldn't he? He _should_ know. In any case, he knows now. _

Erik sighed and stopped his hand. In the confines of the massive room inside the equally gigantic house, Erik's hand stopped on a book that he knew would be one of the most read. In front of Erik was a thick book—worn pages, gold-leaf flaking from the edges, the leather jacket soft and warm from being on the shelf. He looked at the fading letters on the front: Shakespeare. This was something that Erik was greatly familiar with. He balanced the book in his left hand as he opened it, delicately flipping through the soft less-than paper thin pages.

There was no book in the world that Erik would have loved more to stumble upon than this one. Shakespeare was one of his favorite poets and playwrights, and he always knew what to write. The first page the Erik landed on was in the middle of _Julius Caesar_.

"'As he was valiant, I honour him; but as he was ambitious, I slew him' Act three, scene two," he said softly. There was something about those words that made Erik's blood run cold. He thought to the man sitting in his wheelchair across the house. Though he had been the one doing the slaying, Erik was hurt just as much if not more be Charles not being able to forgive him for various reasons. He then flipped back several more pages and landed on the most famous phrase, "Et tu, Brute!" from act one.

If the first quote didn't make Erik feel worse about his situation, the second surely did. Erik then flipped through the book, finding that not only was Shakespeare a brilliant writer, but that he also had a strong sense of irony and torture. In _Hamlet_ Erik found, "When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions." from act four, and, "Everyone can master grief but he that has it." from _Much Ado about Nothing_ in act three. Story after story, page after page, Erik found new meaning in every word written. He became so engrossed in the book that he did not notice someone come up behind the table he had decided to move to.

"'The gentleman is not in your books,' Erik." The metal-bender snapped his head up before laying eyes on Charles behind him, eyes hollow and bloodshot, a weak smile on his face. It had seemed all the light had vanished from his once shockingly blue eyes, the eyes Erik loved to think about.

"Charles," he breathed. He was shocked if not nervous that Charles had found him in the library, pouring over Shakespeare like there was no tomorrow. "I didn't hear you come in." The telepath merely pushed himself to the other side of the table without a word. There was something obviously on his mind, or he would not have stopped his work and made the effort to come and find Erik.

There was a silence that passed between them. It wasn't awkward and uncomfortable as dinner had been earlier, but there was tension. There had always been tension, but this one was different. Charles began to stare at the book in Erik's hands. He tried to count how many times he's looked and read through the giant collection of plays, sonnets, and other works of the Bard, but he realized there were too many to remember.

"I see you've found my favorite book." This wasn't a question, it wasn't an accusation; it was…amusing to Charles. Erik stared at him in wonder, to which in order to break the silence he continued, "What have you discovered within its pages so far?" What _hadn't_ Erik discovered. There were notes in the margins, highlighted passages, sonnets that had borders drawn around the edges; asterisks, things crossed out, pieces of paper that served as bookmarks, pieces of paper that held Charles elegant handwriting and his favorite lines. It was truly amazing to Erik, who for the sake of the conversation looked down at the page he was on and began to read the first passage that jumped out at him.

It was the first act of _Macbeth_. ""Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it; he died as one that had been studied in his death to throw away the dearest thing he owed, as it were a careless trifle.'" Erik drew a breath as he heard a slight echo while he read. Charles's eyes had never left the metal-bender, and he spoke the lines in synch with him. They both knew that the words meant more to them than its author had intended. It was their story—Erik's story. The reason he was back. "I—I didn't mean to." He finally spoke.

Charles looked up at him with heavy eyes. "I know." His voice was tight from lack of sleep and the pain that he carried inside of him. The two men continued to sit across from each other.

"So what happens now?" Erik asked.

Charles paused a moment, even if he already knew what was going to happen. He had made up his mind a while ago, and he had felt so ready to tell Erik, but now that he was actually in front of the man…it was a lot easier said than done. The telepath inhaled and replied, "I'm not ready to forgive you." Erik heard these words and knew that he had rightly deserved them, but it felt as if his heart was made of glass and someone tapped it with a sledgehammer.

"I'm not ready to forgive you Erik, but there are some things that we need to go over. Rules, if you want to think of it that way." _Rules? Okay, I can handle that_. Erik thought as Charles began his list.

"Number one: could you please at least try to control your thoughts a little more. I don't want something like tonight to become a daily event. Number two: like I already said, please don't stalk me around the house. Not only is it annoying, but a little creepy if I may be totally honest." Erik was not offended. He even thought it was creepy. But that had been the only way he could get near the professor without anyone else knowing. Instead of voicing his justification, Erik simply nodded and allowed Charles to go on.

"Number three…"Charles stared deeply into Erik's eyes. _I see the storm has not calmed, has it? _He sent to the metal-bender. Erik could feel Charles's presence, and responded, _It never will._ Charles continued with his last rule. "And number three is that we can talk. You don't have to feel like you need to sneak around to see me. Whatever is going on right now—we just have to keep moving forward." This was the most unexpected thing Erik had ever heard. It took strength to not fling himself over the table and kiss Charles once more. _Okay, _he thought_, this is good. We're making progress. Baby steps._

Charles gave a fleeting smile as he began to wheel himself away from the table and towards the door. Erik, not wanting him to leave so soon called out to him. "Charles, wait!" The telepath stopped himself and turned around. Erik jogged over to him, a smirk teasing at the corners of his mouth. "Before you go, I have a few rules of my own. Well, just one actually."

"I don't think that you're really in a position to be making your own rules for me, Erik."

_ Well, we'll just see about that, now won't we?_ Erik kneeled down beside the chair as he had done twice before. "How badly do you want this? Us? To at least _try_ and see what could come of it?" Charles sighed before complying to hear Erik's single rule.

"Well, what is it then?" The smirk had grown, but then he turned serious.

Never leaving Charles's side, Erik looked the man straight in the eyes. "My only rule is that you need to start sleeping and eating properly." Charles scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I'm serious, Charles. That's my rule. And if you won't do it for me, at least do it for Hank, and Alex, and Sean, and Raven. They worry about you, and they have a right to. Have you seen yourself lately? You're dying, and if there is going to be something between us—be it forgiveness to just us being us together—you need to start taking care of yourself."

"Is that all?" The glare would have been more threatening if Charles's once electrifying blue eyes had the brightness it used to before any of this ever happened.

"Yes, that's all." Erik said, standing upright once more, making room for Charles to turn and leave.

Without another word or a look back, Charles headed for the door and left, Erik watching his form disappear into the hallway. He returned to the table he was at earlier and sat down. The book remained on the table. Erik just stared at it, processing the rules he and Charles had given each other. As he brought the large book in front of him, the familiar feeling of Charles in his head filled Erik. _"'The course of true love never did run smoothe,' Erik." _Charles sent. Just as quickly as it arrived, it was gone. _No, it does not._


	20. First Time in a Long Time

When Charles had entered the library, it was only because he could not keep his focus on his work. It was hard to when he knew that the man he loved was in the room down the hall, especially when that man had just confirmed what he had been afraid was a lie.

When Erik had said that one word, that one simple word, _Yes_, Charles' heart had stopped for a moment as had the rest of his world. He had suspected that the metal-bender did not care about him in the way he had hoped. He had thought he only kissed him to deceive him and, even though he knew during the kiss he had enjoyed it, he had been afraid that was all just a ruse that would end in the older man breaking his heart once more.

However, when he had said that one simple word, when he'd heard the pain behind it, he had known that whatever he had thought was going on in Erik's mind was just his own playing tricks on him, warning him when he knew something was too good to be true. His suspicions of the metal-bender's conviction were confirmed once more when he entered the library and heard him reading excerpts from his large Shakespeare tome. The agony in the man's tone as he'd read lines from Hamlet, Macbeth, Much Ado About Nothing and Julius Caesar, made him realize he wanted the telepath to forgive him just as much as the younger man wanted to forgive.

He'd meant it when he told Erik he was not ready to forgive him. He wanted to forgive him, he wanted everything to go back to the way it was before September 29th 1962, but he could not change it. He could never change it. He could only try to fix it, even if he was not the one that really needed to do the fixing.

Now as he sat in his study once more, his head in his hands as he poured over his notebooks as well as the textbooks he'd been allowed to keep when he left Oxford, he thought of the words Erik had read from Macbeth.

_ Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it; he died as one that had been studied in his death to throw away the dearest thing he owed, as it were a careless trifle._

Closing his eyes, his brows drawing together in pain, he pressed his lips together, sighing in an exhausted sort of way through his nose.

_As if it were a careless trifle…_

It was true that was exactly how he'd felt when Erik had left him on the beach. When he'd seen the metal-bender turn his sea-storm gaze towards Azazel and nod once, that was when everything had become real to him and when he and Raven vanished in a puff of smoke, he did not know if he was going to be able to survive the life he was living any longer.

But things were different now than from what they had been that day on the beach. His sister and the man he loved were back in his life. He had felt said man's lips on his own for the first time in what felt like eons. He had seen his sister smile and laugh, even if it was to herself and she didn't truly mean it. He had felt his heartbeat quicken and his spirits be lifted and his heart as well as his life become whole and meaningful once more.

As he thought of this, of his life, he thought of Erik's single 'rule'.

_My only rule is that you need to start sleeping and eating properly_…_I'm serious, Charles. That's my rule…Have you seen yourself lately? You're dying…_

Thinking about it now, he realized it wasn't so much a rule as a desperate plea, a request that the telepath save his life before he ended it. Though this request came from the man he loved more than life itself, he knew he could not abide by it. Working and drinking had become his ways to forget and even though he knew he was dying, he could not bring himself to care.

_ …if there is going to be something between us—be it forgiveness to just us being us together—you need to start taking care of yourself._

Pushing himself up off his desk, Charles leaned back in his wheelchair, closing his eyes and, placing his hands in his lap, his elbows on the arms of the chair, laced his fingers together. He knew if anyone entered the room right now, they would think he was trying to rest before spending the rest of the night editing theses from college he was planning to reuse in his lessons when he officially opened his school for mutants.

He gave a wry smile as the thought of what he had decided to call his school came to his mind: Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. It was banal name he knew, but it gave his manor the appearance of being a school for gifted children instead of mutated ones. It was in their best interest and his own that he made sure they kept as low a profile as possible.

"Already breaking the rules are we, Professor Xavier?"

The telepath's eyes snapped open and he saw Erik standing in the doorway. His usual smirk was on his lips, though it did not reach his eyes and his hands were stuffed into his pockets as though he were trying to keep the man at the desk from seeing them shake.

As the metal-bender started towards him, he responded, "As are you, my friend. I did ask you not to follow me around, did I not?"

Erik seemed to have no response to this statement. Now it was Charles' turn to smirk.

The playful gleam in the other man's eye vanished as he saw the bottle of scotch on the telepath's desk along with papers scattered all across it. It was clear that at some point all of the papers had been stacked into neat piles, however, that being said the previously mentioned piles were now slumping to the side, sliding their contents across the wood or onto the expensive carpet that decorated the floor.

Not moving from his place in the doorway, Erik leaned against the jamb, taking his hands out of his pockets only to cross his arms over his chest instead. He scanned the room, his brows drawn together just a fraction to show he disapproved that this had, in more ways than one, become the younger man's bedroom. As he moved his gaze over to that man, he said, his voice soft, yet still clearly full of concern with a hint of rage, "Are you _trying_ to kill yourself?"

Charles, who had been staring out the window at the rising moon, said nothing. Up until a few hours ago, he would have said yes without a moment's hesitation, though he knew he would regret it later. However, now, he did not know what his answer would be. Death was still a pleasant idea to him, but he knew if he were to die he would be unable to know what it was like to feel Erik's arms around his fragile frame or his soft, gentle lips pressed against his own.

When he did not respond, the metal-bender added, "Do you _want_ to die?" Again the telepath had nothing to say on the matter and, when this became apparent, the older man went on to say, "If that is what you wish, I really do hope you'll reconsider as you will be unable to make your dreams of having a safe haven for mutants from the grave."

Scowling at the darkness pervading the world outside, Charles said before he could stop himself, "What do you know of wanting to fling yourself into death's arms? When have you ever felt that death was more important than life?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he wished with everything inside him he could take them back, especially when a silence as deathly and menacing as that of the calm before a particularly violent storm filled the air around them. The tension in the room was twice as dense as it had been in the dining room and the telepath was sure that even an axe with blade hewn of diamonds would be unable to break it.

"Did you honestly just say that?" Erik's voice, though soft, was full of utter disbelief. Though Charles could not and did not want to see his face, he knew a look of complete admonishment was currently dominating his features.

The younger man swallowed, unable to fully comprehend himself what he had just said, what he'd just done.

"Did you_ honestly_ just _say_ that?" His voice was growing in volume as well as rage. By now he had uncrossed his arms and was straightening himself, staring at Charles, pure rage contorting his face into a shape that neither of them was completely familiar with.

In an instant, Erik was standing before the telepath, leaning on his desk, his hands shaking with anger, his teeth gritted as he tried to say without screaming, "When I was twelve years of age, I was quite literally dragged from my home in the dead of night and taken to a place you have only read about, a place even your worst nightmares cannot imagine, a place that you know as Auschwitz. I was taken away from my mother and my father and when I tried to get to them, I ended up destroying a gate. For this reason, I ended up in Klaus Schmidt's office and was given the pleasure of watching my mother be shot in the head, knowing it was _my_ fault this happened, since I couldn't move the goddamn coin."

The telepath jumped as the metal-bender slammed his fist down on the desk, upsetting the bottle of scotch as well as what remained of the paper piles. Neither of them did anything as the amber liquid slowly poured from the bottle onto the carpet, turning it a color darker than it had previously been.

"I slept next to the bodies of starving, gaunt men, women and children. I awoke each morning, forced to do things no human being should ever be allowed to endure. I was unable to eat for days at a time and when I did get food it was an amount so small I could fit it into the palm of my hand and swallow it in one gulp. I ate it so quickly I barely tasted it, barely felt it go down."

There were tears of rage in the metal-bender's eyes now. He had to take several gasping breaths before he was able to continue. "I wanted to die every day there, Charles. Every day I prayed one of the soldiers would shoot me in the head, so I would have to live this pain no longer."

He gave a sardonic chuckle. "You want to die? You don't know the meaning of that sentence. Trust me when I say you never will."

With that he left the room, rubbing furiously at his eyes, trying to force the tears to stop falling from his cheeks, but the attempt was a futile one. He did not look back to see Charles doing the same thing.

* * *

><p>As per usual, Charles fell asleep at his desk. He had not bothered to clean up the spilled bottle of scotch and when Raven came in to try to get him to talk to her later, he had ignored her completely. In the end, she was the one who had cleaned up the mess Erik had made. Before she'd left the room, tears falling silently down her textured blue cheeks, she'd kissed him gently on the temple like she used to do when they were growing up together and before both of them had met Erik and everything had gone wrong.<p>

Now, it was close to seven-thirty in the morning and, his cheek pressed against the mahogany, the telepath was sleeping soundly. Though it was clear he was in a very deep sleep, even a blind man could tell it was the rest of someone exhausted beyond what was healthy, someone who was coming closer and closer to death with each passing day.

It was right around the time the sun was rising that Erik opened the door, having been unable to sleep himself, and saw Charles laying with his head atop his desk, a book in his lap. The metal-bender turned away for a moment, to let out a soft sigh. The sight before him was a very sad one and he almost felt the urge to cry as he remembered once more it was he who had done this to begin with. Still, he crossed the room and carefully pulled Charles up off of his desk, leaning him against the back of his wheelchair. He went around to push him to his bedroom, but then another thought struck him and before he could change his mind, he went back around to the front, and lifted the young man into his arms, somehow managing to keep the blanket that lay across his legs still.

It was frightening how light he was and he almost vomited at the thought of what lay beneath his clothes, of the bones that he knew he would see protruding from his skin. It was for this reason that he cradled him far more carefully against his chest as he began walking out of the study and down the hall towards the telepath's bedroom, the wheelchair following them silently.

Using his mutation, Erik opened Charles' bedroom door and allowed the wheelchair to roll inside first, placing it close to the younger man's bed, so he could easily maneuver himself from the mattress to the chair when he awoke in the morning.

Once he did this, he carefully laid the telepath atop the mattress, making sure the pillows were more than comfortable enough before he sat down towards the end of the bed and slowly began taking of the younger man's shoes, then his socks. He placed these on his bedside table as he took the blanket off of his useless legs and folded it neatly. He put this on the seat of the young man's wheelchair before he returned to the bed to pull the blankets up around him, tucking him in as carefully as his mother did when he was a child.

When he was satisfied that the telepath would sleep soundly through the night, he smiled, brushing Charles' dark hair from his forehead as he leaned forward and placing a tender kiss close to his temple. He allowed his thumb to run over that space of skin for a moment, before he finally pulled back and walked slowly to the door.

He could not help himself from glancing back at the bed, at the man sleeping there and whispering, "Goodnight, my love."

It was in this moment that Erik realized, though Charles was not ready to forgive him, he had already forgiven the telepath for what happened the previous evening in his study. He knew his own anger at the younger man would not allow him to be forgiven more quickly and, for the first time in a long time, he allowed his rage to vanish without so much as a second thought as to why he allowed this to happen. The answer was clear and it was lying in the bed across the room.

With this thought in mind, the metal-bender smiled sadly, closing the door behind him as he left, one hand brushing away his tears.

Needless to say, Charles was shocked when he awoke the next morning in his bedroom. He tried to remember how he had gotten there, but when no conceivable solution presented itself, he put an arm over his eyes, tears of both sadness and joy springing to his eyes as he smiled and whispered, "Erik…"


	21. Just Like Old Times Except Not

"Goodnight, my love." Erik whispered as he watched Charles sleeping form take to the bed which had been so neglected in the last few months. As he left the man to his dreams, Erik felt the tears that he had tried so hard in vain to keep from falling, make their way down his face. It was still early, but he never knew who could be up and milling around the halls. He wiped his eyes with his free hand as he made his way back to his room. The sun was just starting to come up as Erik pulled himself into bed and drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

Erik awoke from his slumber to the loud echoes of voices coming down the hall. He opened his eyes just enough to see the sunlight pouring in from the open window. He rolled over and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was about one in the afternoon, and the noise coming from outside his door was steadily growing. Erik gave a low growl as he propped himself up and strode over to the door. Instantly he recognized the voices that had woken him.

Erik opened the door to find Sean and Alex grappling with each other on the floor, shouts and curses filling the air. Immediately Erik's mind drifted to Charles sleeping peacefully downstairs. The telepath may be a heavy sleeper when he actually goes to sleep, but even this would be loud enough to wake the dead if the two boys continued. Erik quickly stepped behind Alex and grabbed him under the arms around his chest pulling him off Sean. Erik looked down at Sean motioning him to get up. There were faint purple marks starting to appear around the younger mutant's face from where Alex had gotten a few good hits in. Erik swung the boy in his arms around and dropped him on the floor. Alex landed with a thud before rising to his feet preparing to charge at Sean.

"Oh, no you don't." Erik said, pushing Alex back. Sean stood and wiped his bloodied lip. "You alright, Sean?" The boy nodded and continued to assess his injuries as Erik let go of Alex. Within two seconds, Raven and Hank came running down the hall and up the stairs to the three men in the hallway.

"What happened? Is everyone alright?" Raven asked rushing to examine Sean. Hank in his lab coat stood in between the two pairs.

"What's going on here?" Looks passed from Raven to Sean, Sean to Erik, and from Erik to Alex.

"Yes," the metal-bender agreed, now holding Alex by his shirt collar, "what _is_ going on here?" There was silence until Sean surrendered under Erik's withering stare.

"It was all Alex's fault!" He defaulted, pointing his finger at Alex before running behind Raven in hope that she would protect him.

"What? That's a load of crap!" Alex struggled to pull free, but Erik held on tighter. "It was all Sean. He wanted to go and see what Beast was up to in the lab, but I told him to just leave him alone." Erik glared over at Sean who was still hiding behind Raven, his half-glazed emerald eyes peering over her shoulder, as he crouched down to hide himself.

There was only so much a person could take before they snapped, and Erik was dangerously close to that point again. _No, _he thought gritting his teeth, _never again. _"Is that true Sean?" he asked. The authority he held in his voice edged on menacing. Sean gave a mumbled "Yes" as Raven stepped to the side next to Hank.

"And why exactly did you need to see what Hank was up too?" There was a faint pounding in his head as Erik spoke. _Damn lack of sleep._

"I dunno," Sean shrugged, "I just thought it'd be cool." Alex and Raven groaned and rolled their eyes. Hank shook his head incredulously at Sean before retreating back downstairs. _These kids are going to be the death of me,_ Erik thought as he turned to look back at Alex.

"And why did _you_ have to hit him?" _My god, it's like taking care of five year olds._ There was an awkward silence before Alex mumbled something intelligible. "What?"

Alex sighed and looked down at his boots. "I said, Sean stole my Brigitte Bardot poster and _accidentally_ threw it away." Alex took a few threatening steps towards Sean, but was stopped by Erik's icy stare. It was obviously a lie. There was something else going on, but Erik decided not to press any further.

There was no stopping him now. Erik was in no mood at the moment to deal with their childish behavior. And what if Charles had woken up? How would he explain it to him that Alex and Sean had been fighting and he did nothing to stop it from happening? The how would he ever forgive him? Erik stepped between the two boys and gave them hard glares.

"Are you two so idiotic that you think you can just burst into Hank's lab without a legitimate reason?" His eyes shifted to Sean, who shrank back a little in fear for his life. "Or beat up Sean because he stole a poster, or so you say? What if Charles had heard you? Don't you think that he would be at least more than a little disappointed that you two were acting like this?" Erik was shouting at this point. "So what do you two have to say for yourselves?" There were some mumbled apologies before Erik sent the boys to their rooms.

During the commotion of the past ten minutes, Erik had not noticed Charles sitting at the bottom of the staircase watching and listening in amusement, trepidation, and love. The telepath sat in his wheelchair, still in shock from waking up that afternoon, knowing that Erik had been the one to put him to bed, but there was a feeling of warmth and comfort as he watched Erik send off the boys in their opposite directions. In his own way, Erik had shown he cared not just for them, but for Charles as well. Without even thinking, Charles sent to the metal-bender, _"Erik, could you please come with me to the study?" _

The metal-bender whipped around to find Charles at the bottom of the stairs; his eyes bright and hopeful, and his skin healthier than he had seen it before. All Erik could do was stand there, mouth agape, trying to think of what to say or do. Raven moved to his side, catching Charles's eye. She waved excitedly. It was the first time—other than the disastrous dinner—that she had seen her brother outside of his study. Charles gave a small wave to her, but his eyes never left Erik's face. The metal-bender turned to Raven and whispered, "I'll be right back. It seems he has some choice words for what happened here." It was a weak lie, but Raven only nodded and stepped aside to let him pass. Erik could feel her eyes on his back as he and Charles disappeared towards the study, but he there was nothing she could do about it. If anything, Raven _wanted_ them to get along again. But Erik wanted more.

Erik let Charles pass in front of him as they entered the study. Closing the door behind him, Erik felt like a little boy about to be punished for breaking a vase. But he knew better than that. There was something different about the tone Charles used when he asked him to come to the study. It was almost…happy or excited…loving, even. There was something behind those eyes that Erik loved so much that told him there was more to the simple invitation than it seemed.

"You're not in trouble, Erik, so it's alright for you to sit down." There was a hint of a playful smirk in Charles's voice as he moved over to the small coffee table. Erik followed suit and noticed the chess board that they had used so many times. The memories of the two of them playing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, the night beforeCuba…two completely different situations that had brought them closer to anyone they've ever known. The thought of those times nearly brought tears to Erik's eyes, but he straightened up and sat down across from Charles. Just like they had done so many times before.

"I saw what you did with Alex and Sean." Charles said, placing his hands in his lap. Erik looked up at the telepath with confusion. Was he trying to compliment him or berate him? Erik couldn't tell until Charles said, "Thank you. For doing that, I mean." Charles looked down at his hands, realizing that it was his fault they were misbehaving. "Everyone has been a little on edge since…well…" His voice trailed off.

Erik knew what he meant. "_Since Cuba, you mean." _He sent to Charles instead. The telepath nodded.

"Yes. And then you coming back, well…it wasn't exactly easy for them." Erik knew he wanted to add "Or for me."

"It was no problem, really. I was just worried that they would disturb you." _Dammit. He probably already knew. _Erik thought. He had given away that he was the one who helped Charles to bed that morning. A small part of him didn't mind however. He wanted Charles to know that he still loved him, that he will always care for him. If he didn't show it somehow, he would probably go insane.

A faint blush crept its way onto Charles's waxen cheeks. The sleep that he had gotten earlier did some good in bringing back the color of his light sapphire eyes, but he was still as pale as ever, and it killed Erik to know that he was part of the reason why.

"And speaking of which," Charles started, "I also want to thank you for what you did last night—or this morning." He was obviously embarrassed, but Erik found it almost cute.

"You're welcome. Since we both broke some rules, I thought I would try to redeem myself." The two men laughed a little, before Charles continued the conversation.

"There's something else, Erik." The hesitation in the younger man's voice almost made Erik want to tear out his heart. What if he really was suffering more than he let on? What if the doctors had found something else that he couldn't tell the others? The metal-bender gripped the arm of the chair tightly, and waited for Charles to proceed.

"It isn't anything serious, is it?" _Of course it is serious. Why else would he be asking you to come to the study in private?_ His voice was tight and pained as he waited for the relief of Charles's answer.

"No, no, it's not serious. Well, not in the way _you're_ thinking." Erik blinked in surprise, but began to relax knowing that there was nothing else wrong with Charles besides the fact that he was not sleeping or eating—and would never walk again. "I—I just wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday." He looked down again before continuing. "I had no right to say that to you, Erik, and I am deeply sorry." Charles looked up at Erik with his crystal-blue eyes. Erik knew that it was the truth, that he was sorry. And he also knew that he had already been forgiven.

If Charles wasn't able to read minds, the inside of Erik's head would be screaming, _"Yes! Yes! I forgive you! I love you! I'm sorry, too! I love you!_" Instead, Erik replied in his own sincere tone, "I know you didn't mean any of it. You were angry. I think I understand what it's like to do and say things whilst angry that you know you'll regret later, better than anyone else." There was another silence that passed between them. They both knew what Erik had meant, but it was too late to change anything.

"You haven't played much lately, have you?" Erik said finally, motioning towards the chess board between them. All the pieces were aligned perfectly in their respective places. Erik leaned in closer to inspect it, and noticed several dents on the sides of the board. A lot of the pieces were chipped and dented as well. Erik looked up from the board. Charles cast down his eyes. There was no need for him to explain: Erik already knew. He scanned the room and found what he was looking for. On the south side of the room was a large scratch mark.

_ "Did you really want to forget me that much?" _Silence. _"I guess I deserved it, though." _More silence. This was not how Erik had hoped things would go between them. Then, again, the way he had hoped things would go never turned out that way.

It felt like hours had gone by instead of minutes. The silence was growing deafening, and neither man could take much more. Charles glanced back at Erik who remained fixated on the damaged board. "No." was all he said. Erik broke free of his daze, attention snapping towards Charles. "I did not want to forget you _that _much." Erik couldn't believe it. Surely after all that had happened, Charles would have hated even the smallest thing that reminded him of Erik.

"I did hate you for what you did. I wanted to forget you. Everything you did, everything you said…" As much as Erik knew that this was the truth, it hurt more to hear it for himself. Charles's eyes became dull again; not from lack of sleep or drink, but from the pain of reliving every memory he and Erik had shared together.

"I swore to myself that I would _never_ forgive you for what you did to me." Erik gripped the chair once more. "And I'm still not ready to. And I don't know when I will be able to." The metal-bender just sat in the armchair soaking in every word that Charles spoke. Each syllable was like a knife to the heart for him. He knew he deserved this, but he never imagined it would be this excruciating.

Suddenly Charles's voice became low and heavy. "But know this: _that_," he nodded towards the board, "_that _was not because of you. _That_ was me being angry. Angry at you, angry at Shaw for hurting you, but mostly angry at myself…" The pain and sadness he emitted nearly tore Erik in half. "And you do not deserve _that_." Charles leaned away, tears threatening to spill over once more. Erik was stunned. After everything that had happened between them, Charles had been even angrier with himself.

Erik continued to stare at Charles, neither man speaking—verbally or non-verbally. They stayed that way for a while until Erik sat up in his chair. If there was some chance of them having what he had dreamed, things had to become something of what they were before. "Black or white?" he asked.

Charles gave the older mutant a small smile before replying, "Has it been than long that you really have to ask?" Erik returned the smile.

Shrugging his shoulders, Erik turned the board around so the white pieces were in front of Charles. "I just thought you'd like to change it up a little."

The game began. By the first check, Erik saw that it was only a matter of time before things would return to whatever they considered "normal," even though he knew deep within his heart that nothing he hoped for ever turned out that way.


	22. World Spins Madly On

When Charles awoke that morning to shouts and fighting on the second floor, he pulled his wheelchair close to his bed, somehow managed to get into it and hurried to the bottom of the stairs to see what was going on. He was exhausted, but he would rather stop people from having their necks broken and their eye gouged out than allow such things to ensue.

He expected to find half the house at each other's necks when he reached the base of the stairs, but instead, he saw Erik yelling at Sean and Alex, who looked as they were going to rip one another to pieces if given the chance.

Erik was holding Alex away from the other boy and saying something, but Charles was hardly paying attention to his words. The simple knowledge that he was trying to keep them from waking him – though he had done a poor job of it – was enough to make him smile wanly and forgive everyone for trying to harm one another to begin with.

When the metal-bender walked back down the stairs, he invited him into his study where they spoke and played chess for several hours before Erik announced he had something else to do. What exactly that something else was he wouldn't say, but the telepath did not press the matter. He simply bade him farewell, before he turned back to the chessboard, the broken, cracked, chipped chessboard and sighed softly to himself.

The only thing he had in common with the wooden board and pieces sitting on the small table was they had both been through quite a lot recently. He blamed himself for the board's misfortune as he picked up the black queen and rolled it between his fingers, remembering just what had happened the last time he had done this.

_In chess, the queen is the most powerful piece. Without the queen you are helpless. Yes, you can still win without your queen, but this is very difficult to do. It is for this reason that most people forfeit the game if they lose their queen. They know there is no reason to continue when the game has been handed over to their opponent on a silver platter._

_ As Charles Xavier stared at the black queen chess piece he was rolling between his fingers, he now understood why. Even in life you had your pawns and your bishops, your rooks and your knights and, of course, your queen. _

_ You could lose your pawns. The loss would be painful, but not terribly so. You could lose your rooks and your knights and your heart would still be intact. You could even lose your bishops and believe that someday there would be light, hope in your world again, but if you lost your queen, you no longer saw a reason to go on living. What point is there to live when you already know the game is over?_

_ Charles sighed, placing the piece back down on the chessboard. Erik had been his queen. He had stood by him and helped him and even allowed him to fall in love with him. Then, without warning, he had left him, left him to die, left him alone with an injury that could never possibly be repaired._

I can't feel my legs…

_ Fingers trembling, the telepath placed his hands against his thighs, pinching at the skin, willing himself to feel something, anything, but he did not. He grit his teeth and dug his nails into his flesh until he was sure he was bleeding, but there was nothing to show for it except a crimson stain slowly spreading across his trousers. _

Us turning on each other. It's what they want. I tried to warn you, Charles. I want you by my side. We're brothers you and I. All of us, together, protecting each other. We want the same thing.

_ It was cruel, really. He had lost his sister, the man he loved, and the woman he cared for all within the span of a couple of months. As he stared at the chessboard now, he named each of them as pieces. Erik was his queen, Raven was his bishop and Moira was his knight. The children he now lived with were his pawns. He cared for them and their loss would probably damage him far beyond repair, but that was simply because he had already lost everyone else so dear to him. Their loss would only be intensified because of this._

Oh my friend…I'm sorry, but we do not…

_ Carefully placing his index finger on the black queen once more, Charles closed his eyes, his brows drawing together so the look upon his face was one of pain and pure sorrow. He took a deep shuddering breath and whispered, "Check mate, my friend."_

_ Before he knew what he was doing he had picked up the queen and hurled it at the wall. He watched as it bounced off the crimson painted wall, leaving a small black mark where it struck. The sight satisfied him and before he knew what he was doing, he was throwing all of the black pieces at the wall, each of them leaving a new scratch of black. When the black pieces were gone, he started on the white ones that left their own marks. It was only once all of them were scattered about the room that he picked up the board and flung it like a Frisbee at the wall, watching with utter satisfaction as the board ripped the paint off the wall, leaving a ragged mark in its place. _

_ The younger mutants who had been hanging out, drinking in the library, thinking he didn't know, rushed into the room, concern dominating their features as they entered the room. There they found their professor sobbing with his head in his hands. _

_ While Hank tried to calm him down, Alex and Sean went around the room, picking up the chess pieces and placing them carefully in their correct positions on the board – which had skidded under his desk – before carrying the whole thing over to the table it had been sitting on moments before. _

_ They all asked continually what was wrong, but they got no response. It was not until Charles was finally able to gain some semblance of control of his tears that he was finally able to gasp out, "Everything is in pieces now."_

The memory was a painful one. It still brought tears to his eye when he thought about it too much, but the pieces he had been speaking of were slowly being glued back together and everyone was helping. At least for the most part they were.

Yes, he had to admit that the fighting between Erik, Raven and everyone else in the house was beginning to truly wear on him, but the simple fact that his sister and the man he loved had returned to him was making everything easier. He could think about starting his school again. He could actually contemplate going and finding more mutant children to bring back to his mansion.

He had a whole list of them tucked away in his desk somewhere. All of the places that had been recorded when he had used Cerebro before. Many of them were crossed off, but there were still a few that weren't. Maybe he could take Erik and they could go to try recruiting a few more mutants for – as Moira had put it before he'd promptly erased her memory – the X-Men. It would be like before all of this had happened, only he wouldn't be able to walk and he would look considerably more ill and…

Sighing, he put his head in his hands, moving his fingers up to push his hair back from his face, pulling at the ends. He wondered what the other mutants would think now if he went to collect any one of them. What would they think of the frail, broken man in the wheelchair? What would they do when they saw how he was tired so quickly, the shadows under his eyes, the exhaustion in his voice? No one would want to come to a school where the head was a weak, broken man.

Forcing these thoughts from his mind, he turned towards the window and saw the orangish haze in the sky, the shadows growing long on the carpet, the glare of the sun, shining off the varnish of the chess pieces. He stared at them for a long moment, images of him and Erik sitting together, smiling good humouredly at words the other had said. He missed those times. Truly he did and, thinking of it now, knowing it would never exist in the same way again, made him sad, made his heart ache.

He may not have yet forgiven, Erik, but that did not mean he did not want to. That did not mean he did not want to go to the metal-bender, take him in his arms and hold him close whispering, "You are forgiven, my friend, my love. Let us just be together and forget this ever happened, forget it all. I love you and that's all that matters."

Turning away from the window, closing his eyes and sighing once more, the telepath glanced towards the clock. It was nearly dinner time. Half of him wanted to go sit with Erik, Raven and the boys once more, but another part of him, a larger part, realized that after what happened before, this was truly not an option. He would take his dinner in the study once more until he was able to gain control over projecting his thoughts and feelings once more. Yes, he had gotten more sleep than normal last night, but that did not mean that he was ready to allow himself to relax in a room full of people once more.

It was for this reason that he pressed his middle and index finger to his temple, closing his eyes and calling out with his mind to Hank. _Hank, I am going to take my dinner in my study tonight, so please do not wait for me._

As the younger mutant replied, he could feel the anger in his words. _Professor, you can't stay locked up in there forever. You can't let yourself waste away from lack of food or sleep._

_ I'm going to eat, Hank, do not worry, _he responded, smiling slightly, his eyes still closed in concentration. It seemed to take so much lately to simply use the power he was born with. _I simply do not want something to happen tonight as it did before. I still have yet to be able to control my projecting completely. _

He did not answer, but the telepath assumed he had gotten the message and would bring him his food in the study when it came time for dinner to be served.

Maneuvering himself over to his desk, he crossed his arms and laid his head upon them, staring out the window, watching the sun slowly sink over the horizon. He blinked a few times before he closed his eyes and it wasn't until he felt a hand gently shaking his arm that he realized he had fallen asleep.

He looked up and saw Hank leaving the room, a tray full of steaming food sitting on his desk. He could feel the younger mutant's anger radiating off of him and voices in the hallway. He was about to eat, but he silenced himself to listen to them.

"He was asleep when I went in there, Raven! Asleep! He shouldn't be sleeping during the day! He's slowly dying!"

"Hank calm down. He did this in college too, he was fine."

"He's dying, Raven. I'm not going to let him die."

There wasn't much more of a conversation. He heard them muttering as his sister led the younger mutant down the hall, trying to sooth him and reassure him that her brother wasn't going to die, that he was overreacting. However, he knew she didn't completely believe what she was saying and was merely trying to calm the other mutant down.

For a while, he sat alone in his study, slowly but surely eating his dinner. He rested his forehead in one of his hands, staring at his food as he ate, closing his eyes, trying to remember, once more what Erik's lips had felt like on his own. The thought made him smile as he recalled the passion, the love. It was something he had never known with the many women he had slept with or the family that had supposedly been his own. Erik had given him more love in one moment than his family had given him in eighteen years.

Suddenly, there were voices outside of the room again. One of them was soft and indistinguishable. The other was Raven's sounding far louder than the other voice as well as slightly pleading. Both of their words were incoherent and he didn't know what either of them were fighting about or saying, but he didn't have to wonder for long. A moment later the door opened revealing Erik, carrying his plate as well as his silverware, a napkin and a glass of water.

"Please, Raven," he said, still looking out the door at the blonde girl lingering in the hallway, looking more than a little nervous. There was a small smile on his face that made Charles blink and smile as well when he continued, "I know what I'm doing."

"If you say so," she replied. She glanced in the room. He could see she had her arms crossed over her chest, her hands clasping her elbows. She gave her brother a small wave and a wan smile before she turned on her heel and headed back to the dining where Hank, Alex and Sean were, no doubt, waiting for her.

Erik waved at her as she left with the hand holding his silverware and napkin against his palm with his thumb. Once she had vanished around the corner, he slowly shut the door behind him, watching his food carefully to make sure it didn't spill over onto the carpet, before he headed over to where Charles was sitting. He managed to pull a chair that had some metal in the arms along with him, so when he set his plate down on the desk he was able to sit down, pick up his fork and start eating.

For a moment, Charles stared at Erik. He watched him eating as though he were afraid the plate of food was going to be taken from him at any moment. However, this really wasn't a surprise. Considering what he had been through when he was in the concentration camps in Poland and Germany, there was a good chance he had gotten very little food from the time he was imprisoned, until he was liberated. It only made sense that now he did get food he would eat it as though he were starving.

"What are you doing here?" the telepath asked. The words came out harsher than he had initially intended and he winced as he realized this.

Erik, however, wasn't fazed in the slightest and replied, cutting up a piece of steak that was far too big for even his mouth, "I thought you would enjoy some company." He glanced up at him and smiled before returning to the task at hand. "I figured after what happened last time you came to dinner you wouldn't want to do that again, until you got a hold of your mutation once more, so I decided to join you in your solitude."

Charles opened his mouth to say thank you, but all that came out was a stunned silence. Erik had left the company of Raven, Hank, Alex and Sean for him? Although, now that he considered it, he didn't understand why this came as a shock. Three of the four of those people wanted nothing to do with him. He could understand now why Raven looked so upset when he had entered the study instead of following her back to the dining room.

As he slowly got used to the metal-bender's presence, the younger man stopped talking and began to slowly pick at his food, eating bites as small as he could get away with. He wasn't even a third of the way through any of the foods on his plate when the man sitting across from him, pushed his own to the side, placing his fork atop it.

The telepath hardly noticed that the metal-bender was staring at him intently, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyebrows raised in what could have been warning, until he realized the scraping of silver against china was no longer present. When he did notice Erik staring at him, he glanced carefully upwards and was opening his mouth to ask what exactly he was doing when the older man beat him to it by saying, "You promised, Charles."

He sighed, glancing down at the mass amount of food on his plate. In all honesty, it really wasn't that much, but to a man who has eaten barely more than a plate and a half of a day, the quantity appeared to be immense. He looked up at Erik, about to protest, but he cut him off again, adding to his initial statement, "I'm not leaving until you eat at least half of everything that's on your plate."

Licking his lips and glaring at both the metal-bender and the food on the china dish, Charles began to eat. He was only about a third of the way through everything before he felt as though he was going to be sick if ate anything else.

He dropped his fork, wrapped his trembling arms around his stomach and coughed, trying not to vomit right there. He half expected Erik to run around to his side of the desk and ask him what was wrong, but he didn't. He simply sighed and said, "Charles, I'm not buying that. You still have several bites left to eat of all of your food."

"I can't, Erik!" he protested, looking up at him, wincing and gasping, trying to stop his weak, more than slightly malnourished body from rejecting the food he had just put into it. It wasn't used to having this much food shoved into it at once. It was trying to get rid of the excess food, which meant all of it. He was trying not to retch, but if he had to he was not going to throw up in front of Erik.

Apparently, he wasn't given a choice.

Within seconds of this thought, his dinner was all over the floor beside him. He groaned as he retched again and again, until everything he had eaten the entire day – which really wasn't much – was scattered near his desk and wheelchair. His face twisted into a grimace as he tried not to let the tears of shame and agony leak out of the corners of his eyes. He wiped his mouth carefully before he tentatively sipped some of the water Hank had left him when he brought his dinner, trying to get the vomit taste out of his mouth.

When he set the glass down, taking several deep breaths as he did so, his eyes closed, the young telepath realized he had a hand on his arm and that hand was shaking. He turned his head slightly, staring at the hand, knowing whose it was, but still looking up to see the concerned and rather frightened face of Erik next to him. He placed his own hand atop the metal-bender's in an attempt to reassure him, but this only made him let out a shuddering breath, the tears he was holding in his own eyes, dripping out of his face and coursing down his cheeks as he whispered, "Are you alright?"

Charles smiled, trying to make the other man stop crying as he said softly, his voice gravelly from having just thrown up, "I'm perfectly alright."

The metal-bender shook his head, saying, in a shaking voice through gritted teeth, "Bullshit. No you're not, now tell me the truth. Are you alright?"

"This wouldn't have happened had you not made me eat so much," the telepath responded before he could stop himself. He hated that he said the most honest and yet most horrid things when he was around Erik. It was something he knew he was going to have to learn to control if his presence was going to become a long term thing.

The older man's reaction was immediate. He removed his hand from the other's upper arm and ran his trembling fingers through his hair, mussing it, before he said, his teeth still gritted in an obvious attempt to hold back tears, "Shit Charles…you're dying. I can't just stand here and watch you kill yourself. Your body rejecting food is proof of this."

Charles sighed and turned back to the plate. The simple sigh of the food still sitting there, made his stomach turn and he quickly returned to facing Erik, who was now staring at him once more as he began, "What am I going to do without you, Charles? How do you expect me to survive without you knowing what _I've_ done that _I_ made –"

This time it was the telepath's turn to cut the metal-bender off. He did this by turning his wheelchair to face the older man and placing his hand atop the other's. In a moment, he was silent and only because of a simple touch. At first, however. For a moment, they both stared at their hands. Charles' resting on Erik's, the pad of his thumb lightly stroking the weathered skin. Once this moment faded, they both looked up into each other's eyes.

No words had to be spoken to know what to do next. It was almost as if they had planned it all along, from the moment Erik entered his study.

Charles trailed his hands up Erik's arm, then his torso, until he had a hold of his shirt lapels, or at least as close to them as he could manage. When his fingers were dug into the other's clothing, he pulled him carefully towards him and the metal-bender did not resist. He allowed him to take his lips to centimeter's within the telepath's before Charles reached up, placed a trembling hand on the metal-bender's cheek and closed the distance.

When their lips pressed together, it was exactly as it had been before. For that moment, it was only them. There was none of Charles' vomit on the floor or an uneaten plate of food on his desk or his useless legs or the hate he still harbored in his heart. Nothing else mattered except Erik's lips on his own.

_Let the world spin madly on,_ he thought, unable to stop himself from smiling against the metal-bender's lips.

However…did that lingering hatred for the man he was so very much in love with even exist anymore?

Truly, he couldn't tell.

Maybe it was only the magic of Erik's touch, his kiss, that took away the unwillingness to forgive the man who had, so often recently, saved him from himself. It was only when they pulled away and continued staring deep into one another's eyes, wanting nothing more than to press their lips together once more that Charles realized, he had forgiven this man. He had forgiven him he heard him reading Shakespeare it had only taken until now to realize this.

As the recognition of this filled him, he smiled, tears of joy filling his eyes as he leaned back in for another kiss, his arms wrapping around Erik's now.

If there had been any other telepaths in the house at that moment, the only thing they would have heard coming from both, Erik's and Charles' mind were three words repeated over and over and over again, three words that now meant everything to the both of them, three words that defined each of them.

_I love you, I love you, I love you._


	23. Rebuilding

Everything was perfect. The two of them, Charles's lips against his own, the sounds of their breathing perfectly in sync with one another…it was heaven. There was nothing that would be able to ruin the moment that they had once again shared, this time with equal passion and love. Erik's mind swirled with endearing thoughts; whispered words of love and adoration for the telepath in every language he knew. In his heart, Erik knew that everything would be alright. They had each other now, and that was all that mattered. Time stopped all together as Erik pulled away and continued to stare into Charles's cerulean eyes, now even brighter from tears of joy. There was no where he would rather be.

_"Ich liebe dich. Ich werde dich nie verlassen wieder."_ Erik whisperd softly. He needed to let Charles know that he meant it, and German was the only way he knew how. Charles just continued to gaze up at the metal-bender. Erik knew he understood. He began to lean in once more only to be interrupted by the solid oak door of the study opening to reveal Katie, the quiet blonde maid Erik had only seen a handful of times, enter blissfully unaware of what she just walked into until it was too late. Erik's eyes widened as he realized he was practically sitting in Charles's lap when she barged in. _It's always the maid!_ Erik thought scornfully as he began to put some distance between himself and the telepath, whose face had turned a brilliant shade of red with embarrassment.

Katie stood there in shock as Erik straightened up and gave a weary look at Charles. His face was still flushed, but there was a subtle tinge of green making its way onto his cheeks once again. Erik could only imagine what must be going through his head. Then again, if Charles projected, Erik would probably find that their thoughts were very similar. Erik glanced back at Charles to find him already with his fingers to his temple, muttering instructions to Katie, forever erasing her memory of their second most intimate moment.

Soon it was just the two of them once more, only this time both were aware of the situation they were in. Erik peered around the room, slowly coming back to reality. If it weren't for the clear presence of the contents of Charles's stomach on the floor, Erik would automatically be back in his grasp breathing in everything about him, making up for lost time. Instead, Erik just stood there, the most important question plaguing his mind, _"What happens now?" _He knew Charles had heard him, but the telepath continued to avert his gaze, perhaps in thought.

"I'm not sure," was the reply. Erik hung his head. He was exhausted, overjoyed, confused, and felt utterly helpless.

Erik came closer to Charles, kneeling to meet his bright eyes. They were captivating, and for another minute Erik forgot about everything else as he stared into Charles's eyes.

"Perhaps," he started, "you should go and change while I clean up the floor before it leaves a stain." Erik nodded to the mass of nearly-digested food on the rug. Charles began to blush again, but turned away once he caught sight of the vomit. Erik couldn't help but let out a deep chuckle before placing a light kiss on the telepath's forehead. He helped Charles to the door before parting ways and heading for the kitchen.

Dinner was just finishing up, and from what Erik could tell it had been fairly civilized. There was even laughter to be heard in response to one of Sean's "questionable" jokes. Erik couldn't help but smile. Everything seemed so much better now. And in some twisted way, he was glad that he had left and returned when he did. If he had stayed away, he may have never known the warm feeling of complete bliss that overtook his body.

There was only one problem: Charles had not said that he had forgiven him.

A small part of Erik knew that he was forgiven, but a much larger and suspicious part of him knew that he was still in the doghouse and that it would take a long time to fix what he had broken. On his way back to the study, cleaning supplies in hand, Erik began to wonder if all he had done was in vain. Was he ever really to be forgiven? And if so, when? The days were beginning to add up—not that he had a preferred date to which he absolutely had to be forgiven by—and the agony of waiting to hear the confirmation of forgiveness was too much to bear. If those few precious moments in the study had meant anything at all to Charles, he would be able to forgive Erik soon.

* * *

><p>It took Erik nearly four hours to get Charles's study back to its "organized-mess" status. He had dried several papers, cleaned the rug, thrown away empty bottles of scotch, and cleared away the half-touched dinner plates and glasses from earlier. He then set himself on the small sofa and closed his eyes. In the morning, Charles would come into his study to find it relatively clean, and he would know that Erik was the one to do it. The thought almost excited Erik. At this point, he would do almost anything to have Charles truly forgive him. And speaking of Charles, Erik had not seen him since he sent him off to change. <em>He must've fallen asleep.<em> He thought, rising from his seat. _Maybe I should check on him, just in case._

Erik made his way down the hall towards Charles's bedroom. He opened the door as quietly as possible before slipping inside, unsurprised at the sight of Charles laying in bed, sheets pulled up around his chest, his face peaceful and illuminated by the moonlight. Unconsciously Erik began to move toward the bed. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking the deep brown mass of hair that no one else on Earth would be able to even think about touching. Light snores escaped from the sleeping telepath, and Erik did all he could to stop himself from laughing. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to Charles's lips and whispered, _"Gute nacht_, Charles." He removed himself from the bed, but froze as Charles shifted his head.

Erik let out a sigh of relief as Charles remained asleep. Slipping out of the room, Erik wandered back to the study for some unknown reason. There wrapped in the warm tones of the walls, the familiarity of the furniture, he sat and thought about what more he could do for Charles to show that he was sincere. He thought back to all the times that they had spent together, what had made Charles the happiest. There was the road trip that led them to other mutants, the chess games and long talks, Charles using Cerebro while Erik watched in awe and admiration…

Cerebro. That was it. He would rebuild Cerebro for Charles—a newer model, one that was more powerful. It was perfect.

Running out of the study, Erik knew that Hank would still be in his lab. If he was going to even have a _chance_ at rebuilding that thing, he would need the person who had built it before. Erik strolled into the lab nonchalantly, but secretly marveling at the talent the young doctor had. Hank was busy scribbling down notes but stopped to glance up at the metal-bender coming towards him. Erik could see Hank tense up, but he kept his demeanor easy, if not uncharacteristically excited. Hank seemed to notice this as well, which caused him to back away a little in fear. Seeing Erik excited wasn't just unsettling, it was just creepy.

"Hello, Hank." Erik greeted, his tone unnaturally bright. Hank just stared at him, not sure whether to attack him or run away.

"Uh, hello?" The young mutant tried to give a smile but it turned into more of a grimace. Why would Erik even be in the lab? He had no reason to unless it was to harm Hank…unless it had something to do with the professor. Erik continued to look around before Hank caught on to his little visit.

"You want me to help you make something for the professor, don't you?" Erik put down a vile of questionable green liquid.

"Yes," he replied. "I—I want you to help me rebuild Cerebro. Or more likely just remodel it. Make it better—more powerful. Wider range, easier for Charles to use." Hank just stared at him in disbelief. He wasn't serious, was he? Did he think that he could do it in a night? Hank shook his head and returned to his work, but not before giving Erik a piece of his mind.

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to create the one we have now? There were blueprints, obtaining parts, testing—hell! Charles _was_ the test subject!" Two things struck Erik about what Hank had said. One was that he had rarely heard the young mutant use any form of profanity other than the occasional "damn," and two, Erik thought back to the first time he had witnessed Charles using Cerebro. He had called him "an adorable lab rat." And that he was. As Erik reminisced, Hank continued to berate him on his idea.

"And another thing, why should I help you anyway? You were the one who caused all the problems anyway, so it should be _your _responsibility to fix what you've done." At this Erik grew dark again. He strode up to Hank and used as much force as he could to turn the doctor to face him.

"I have made plenty of mistakes in my life, Hank, and I'll be _damned_ if I let this one ruin my life and continue to ruin Charles's life as well. Do you honestly think that if I could get Charles to forgive me by bringing him a box of chocolates and flowers I would do that? If it were that simple, yes, I would. But it's not. You and I both know that I need to _prove_ how sorry I am, and this is the only way I can think of and I need _your_ help to do it. We both want to see him happy again, and I know that this is the best way to do it." Erik stepped back and collected himself before adding, "So I'm asking you, to help me, please? For Charles."

Hank turned to his work, but Erik knew that he had won. Sighing, the doctor removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"Fine. I'll help." Erik smirked and nodded. "We'll have to be careful around him, though. And it's going to take a lot of time. A lot of the parts have to be special ordered and that'll take weeks. Not to mention the planning. So we'll have to work during the night." Erik simply nodded to everything Hank had to say. The latter sighed and ruffled the fur on top of his head, muttering something along the lines of, "What am I doing?"

Erik stepped up to him and clapped a hand on his shoulder, surprised that he wasn't thrown against the wall or anything else. "Well then, let's get to work."

* * *

><p>For the next six weeks, Erik and Hank worked in secret. Days passed with surprising normalcy, and evenings were pleasant. They all ate together—Charles starting out with smaller portions to get his stomach accustomed to food once again—Alex and Sean behaving as they normally do, and even Hank and Raven spent some time together. There was even an unspoken truce between Alex and Erik after the older man managed to recover Alex's missing Brigitte Bardot poster. And even Charles began to become something of his old self again.<p>

After dinner, Erik and Charles would return to the study, where Charles would work—or not work, considering Erik was there—and tell of his plans for the school, while Erik listened intently, careful not to let his thoughts stray to the plans he had for a gift. He was getting stronger by the day, and soon it would be time for Erik to show him his true gift.

Once again Erik had left Charles for the night and slipped down to the lab where Hank was already working on the finishing touches. As Erik handed the younger man a cup of coffee, they chatted for a few minutes before starting to work together.

"Could you pass me that wrench over there, please?" Hank asked. His upper body was buried inside a panel in the wall leaving his legs dangling trying to fit inside as well. Erik crouched down and pointed to the bolt Hank had indicated, tightening it without the use of the wrench. The young mutant muttered a "thanks" before pulling himself out of the panel and shutting it softly.

"Well, that about does it." The two men stepped back and examined their work. The new Cerebro was sophisticated and easily accessible for Charles. Erik had made sure that it was safer to use, and the range was widened to include more prospective students.

"We make a pretty good team, don't we?" Erik prodded, slightly smirking at the fact that Hank was once scared of him, then wanted to murder him, and was now working with him. The doctor turned away and snorted.

"I'll say 'yes' when the professor stops coming into breakfast singing "All I Do is Dream of You" every morning." Erik laughed along with Hank. Ever since the night that Erik and Charles had declared their love for each other _to _each other, every morning Charles came into breakfast singing or humming his favorite song from _Singing in the Rain_. It was nice to see him happy, for the first week or so, but after two and a half weeks it became rather annoying to everyone else except Erik, who would have listened anyway just to hear Charles sing.

The next morning, Charles came into breakfast, humming his usual tune, his eyes bright and sparkling. Erik sat at the table and ate his breakfast with his usual indifference, the whole time trying as hard as he possibly could to not think about the surprise he had planned. It was just as Alex and Sean dragged themselves to the table that Raven burst through the door, a wide smile on her face, her golden hair bouncing behind her.

"Happy Valentine's Day, everybody!"

Alex rolled his eyes as he helped himself to a bowl of cereal, while Sean was still too asleep to even notice or care. Hank gave a small "Happy Valentine's Day" greeting in return, a little embarrassed as he was the first one Raven ran to hug, while Charles then embraced his sister as best he could, even giving her a kiss on the cheek. It was all going perfectly. Soon afterwards, Erik and Charles were alone in the study until Hank came to the door.

"Ah, come in, Hank." Charles called. The scientist entered the room, giving a small nod to Erik who understood the reason for the visit.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, my friend?" Hank glanced back and forth between Erik and the professor before speaking.

"I've just come to tell Erik that it's finished and ready when you are." He gave a small smile as Charles looked back at Erik confused. The metal-bender stood and smiled and began to push Charles out of the study and down the hall to the lab.

"Erik? Hank? What's finished? Why are we going to the lab? What's going on? Do I have to read your minds?" Erik stopped in front of the door and walked around to face Charles.

"There will be no need for that, since you're about to find out. So just relax." Charles looked a bit apprehensive, but trusted Erik completely and allowed him to finish speaking. "I want you to know that I meant what I said about never leaving again. That I meant what I said when I told you that I was sorry—that I am _still_ sorry for everything—and that I love you. And this was the only way I knew that would make you see that. With Hank's help, of course. But it was all for you."

Erik nodded to Hank who opened the wide doors to the new chamber that they had built. Erik watched Charles stare in awe at his gift. Tears began to spring up in his eyes as Erik leaned over and said, "Happy Valentine's Day, Charles."

* * *

><p><p>

**Author's Note: Okay the silent maid is my friend Katie, actually and she requested that we put her in here, so my coauthor did so. [: I love her so much I may actually bring her back in a later chapter. Please tell me what you think. 3**


	24. Take It All Away

For the past few weeks, it had been clear to Charles that Erik was up to something. He had just never read the metal-bender's mind to find out exactly what that was. He had silently promised the man he wouldn't long ago and he intended to keep that promise. It was for this reason that he was thoroughly stunned that Erik, with help from Hank, had managed to recreate Cerebro in the basement of his mansion. He could tell from simply looking at it that it was far more advanced than the previous model had been.

The telepath pushed himself over to the machine, eager to examine it to see what additions had been added. As he ran his fingers lightly over the metal contraption that ran it as well as the plastic helmet that would light up when he put it on, he wondered if they had managed to adjust the level of pain he would feel when he used it as well.

When he had first used Cerebro, Charles had felt an intense amount of pain. To this day he was not entirely sure what had caused it, though he was sure it had to do with the mass amount of minds he was able to touch at one time. Having that much information flood his brain at once was more than a little bit painful. He had not allowed the hurt he felt threading through his mind show on his face even once the first time he had used it. He, along with everyone else that had been there, had been far too excited to allow anything to ruin what he was going to attempt to do for the first time.

Now, as he sat before the machine once more, he was hesitant to place the helmet on his head and turn it on in an attempt to find even more mutants, more children who could be his students, more children he could bring his mansion in an effort to help them. He knew it had to be done and he truly did appreciate Erik rebuilding this for him, he had longed for it for quite some time, however, he also did not want to experience the same overwhelming pain he had when he used the lower grade model of the contraption that was before him.

"Do you want to test it now or would you rather wait?"

The voice was Hank's and it pulled Charles out of his thoughts and back into the present. It was then he realized his fears of pain were unfounded as he had experienced it much in his life and not just within these last few months. He did not answer the younger mutant. He only picked up the helmet, placed it on his head and nodded towards him to let him know he was ready.

He glanced towards Erik as he had the very first time he used Cerebro and gave him a slight smile, before he closed his eyes.

Just as before, he let out a gasp, gripping the arms of his wheelchair as hundreds of millions of minds flooded his own. When he had used the first version of Cerebro, only the minds within the vicinity of the few states that surrounded Washington DC where they had been staying entered his own. Now, however, he felt as though every mind in the United States of America as well as some from the closer Canadian territories were connected to his.

Through the mass amount of images and feelings of others, he was able to hear the steady typing of the printer as his mind sent signals to the computer, giving it the coordinates of all of the mutants that he touched. He tried to stop the machine from typing out the names of the mutants who were too old to be taught or he could tell would not wish to speak with him, even if he was trying to help, but he could not stop it from doing its job, so eventually he gave up and, calming, allowed the information to flow through him.

He did not realize it had been almost three hours by the time he took the helmet off as he was beginning to feel the pain the old version had caused the entire time he used it, spreading through him only just now. He wanted to continue using the contraption, but he was not fond of the pain that was now permeating his skull, so he knew it was time to stop for the day.

As he put the helmet down and opened his eyes, he glanced in Erik's direction. The metal-bender, who had been reading a magazine entitled _National Geographic_, uncrossed his legs and began to push himself up, but Charles raised a hand and said, noting the concerned look on the other man's face, "Please, my friend, there is no need to worry. I am alright."

Erik smiled in response and knelt down in front of him, taking his hands. He ran his thumb over the backs of his palms and said, "Does it work as well as the other one? Is it better?"

The telepath could not help the smile that spread across his lips. "It is much better," he responded. "The other one was…painful to use. This one only hurts after I have used it for a long period of time. Apparently that length is –" he glanced towards the clock hanging on the wall, "– three hours. I shall not use it more than that. I get enough migraines as it is."

Still smiling, the metal-bender added, "Did you find any more mutant children you could possibly bring to your school?"

He nodded. "Yes. I am surprised there are so many in the United States. I can only imagine how many there must be in the world as a whole. If there is any way we can, someday increase Cerebro's range, I would be very happy to do so. Maybe next time we go 'mutant hunting' we can go to Europe. I have always wanted to visit Spain and Portugal, Germany and France, Belgium and Poland."

As he said the last country's name, he glanced towards Erik, unsure of the response it would illicit from him as it was his motherland. Half of him expected a wince, while the other was sure he was going to smile. In the end, it was a mixture of the two and, to keep from conversing about his friend's dark past, Charles pushed himself over to the printer and picked up the sheets of paper as well as the pen sitting nearby. He then began crossing off the coordinates that he knew led to the mutants who either did not want to be found or were too old to attend the academy he was attempting to establish.

He was so engrossed in his work that he did not hear Erik come up behind him and it was for this reason that he flinched instinctively when he felt a pair of hands closing around his tensed biceps.

"My past is not something for you to be afraid of, Charles," he heard the older man say softly. It was only when he recognized his voice, the voice of the man he loved that he once more relaxed, closing his eyes and letting out a long relieved sigh, repeating to himself mentally that it was Erik behind him, not the monster that had referred to himself as his stepfather.

Taking a shuddering breath, he responded, "After what it has done to you and caused you to do to others, I have every right to be afraid of what you have gone through."

The metal-bender had no response for this and for a long time, they sat there in silence.

Neither one of them noticed that Hank had left to go make Raven, Alex and Sean dinner a long time ago. The younger mutant had been instructed only to make those three dinner as Erik had other plans. It was, after all Valentine's Day and, when Charles had been sleeping, he'd gone out to the twenty-four hour grocery stores to buy things for this day. It had taken some time to get exactly what he wanted, but after weeks of these late night trips, he had finally been able to attain everything he needed to make a perfect night for himself and the telepath.

As he remembered this now, Erik placed a kiss on Charles' temple and whispered, "I'll go back to your room and wait for you to finish, alright?"

"Yes," was the only response he received.

Erik only smiled softly as he left the room, eager to go set up his surprise where he had told the younger man he would meet him.

Still stuck in his work, he hardly noticed the metal-bender leave. He was very good at becoming so enthralled in what he was doing that the world around him vanished, leaving him alone with what he had to do. He saw it as a blessing, the others saw it as a curse. It meant he could lock himself in his study all day and night and not realize an entire twenty-four hours had passed between the time he started working and the time he passed out on his desk.

Today, however, he monitored his work time. There was something about the way Erik had asked him to hurry to his bedroom that made him want to finish more quickly and even continue tomorrow morning if necessary.

He was not used to these thoughts. Ever since he had been in middle school, he had worked until he fell unconscious on his bed, desk, floor, kitchen table, or wherever it was he was doing his homework or any other sort of work. He had often had to be carried to bed by Raven or one of the maid's of the household in the early hours of the morning. There had even been days where Raven would wake up, shake him away and the two of them would rush out the door to catch the bus, him wearing exactly what he had the day before as he had no time to change. He would always become angry with Raven for this, asking her why she did not wake him earlier so he could have some breakfast and change. Her answer was always the same: "I didn't want to wake you up until I had to. You looked really tired."

As he thought of his childhood now – at least the parts that involved Raven – he smiled. Sometimes, it had been her that had made his life worth living. Other times, he had wanted to strangle her and be left alone, but for the most part, he knew that without her, he would not be sitting here right now.

With this thought still in his mind, Charles pushed himself away from the table he had been working at, vowing to return to finish crossing off the unnecessary coordinates in the morning as well as attain some more, before he pushed himself towards the door and then down the hall to his bedroom.

Though it was his room, he knocked on the door to be polite and was met with a light, pleasant, "Come in."

Smiling at the tone of Erik's voice, he pushed on the wood of the door, guiding his wheelchair forward. He did not look at the room as a whole as he did this. All he noticed as that the lights were off, yet somehow, the space was still dimly lit. It was only after he closed the door behind himself that he started to turn back towards where the metal-bender's voice had come from and gasped instead.

The room was covered in candles. There were candles on his headboard, his nightstand, his chest-of-drawers, his personal desk, the window sill, the bookshelf and even stuck into a chandelier, he was sure had never been there before, that hung now from the ceiling. They were all glowing brightly, but the room was only barely lit by their presence. Turning his gaze to the bed, he found Erik wearing only a bathrobe lounging on top of the blankets. A silver platter sat next to him, containing a bucket of ice with a bottle of wine stuck into the frozen water as well as a small matching bowl of strawberries and an even smaller bowl filled to the brim with melted chocolate nearby.

The sight made him blush and he was thankful for the poor lighting so the metal-bender could not see how red he was.

"Like what you see?" Erik asked, his face breaking into a smile, his voice managing to sound loving and seductive at the same time.

All Charles could do was pushed himself towards Erik and nod.

He ran his fingers lightly over the sheets, noticing the entire bed was sprinkled with crimson rose petals. He hardly wanted to get on to the bed. Everything Erik had done was so perfect and he was afraid if he moved even another inch, if he touched anything in the room, the entire illusion, the romance, the beauty, would break. He was terrified he would awake in his study with Erik still gone.

When he felt the metal-bender's hand atop his own, he jumped and looked up to see the man's sea-storm eyes gazing into his own. Before he knew what was happening, he was on the bed, kissing Erik with a passion. The metal-bender was above him, supporting himself with his forearms, his fingers tangled in the telepath's hair. It was only when he realized his own fingers had found their way up and under the older man's shirt that he pulled back and whispered his voice wavering slightly, "It will hurt…"

His voice made Erik pull back and stroke his cheek gently, brushing his hair back from his face. He kissed his forehead and his cheek before whispering in his ear, "I promise it will only hurt for a moment." He paused then added, his voice softer, shaking almost as much as the younger man's, "I do not want to hurt you, Charles."

The man, who had previously been so afraid, was instantly reassured by the older man's words. He placed his forefinger on Erik's lips. He guided his lips back to his own and, when he pulled away, he whispered, "I trust you. I know you will not hurt me."

Though he could not see, Erik smiled, tears springing to his eyes as the man he cherished said the words he had so longed to hear. He knew in that moment that the telepath had long since forgiven him. It was only these few simple words that confirmed it. He kissed the younger man again, the lights in the room dimming further as he held him, whispering over and over, "I love you so very much."

_The door creaked open, spilling light from the hallway onto his bedroom floor like milk. He started shaking immediately, knowing who was there, knowing who it was that slid into his bed, pushing him over towards the wall. _

_ Rough fingers were crawling up his shirt, scratching his soft, pure skin. It would not be pure for long. It never was when _he_ was in his room. He felt those same fingers trace down his chest to the hem of his trousers before tugging the elastic waistband down and curling his fingers tight around him. _

Stop,_ he mentally pleaded,_ stop. Go back to bed. Leave me alone. Please. Please.

_But he did not. He did not leave him alone. He refused to._

_ He simply chuckled in a sadistic way before whispering in his ear, "Are you going to cooperate, Charlie?"_

Charles sat bolt upright in bed, shaking and gasping for breath. His arms were trembling fiercely and he could barely keep himself up. He wrapped his arms around himself and bent over placing his forehead against the sheets, drenching the blankets with his cold, nervous sweat.

_It's over, Charles, _he said to himself. _It's over. He's gone. It's over._

He did not know how long he lay like that, trying to calm himself, trying to convince himself he was lying naked in bed with Erik, not the man he had seen in his nightmare. That man was dead. He had been dead for years and years. He had died in a car crash shortly after his mother died of alcohol poisoning when he was college.

"Charles?"

Letting out a cry of surprise and fear, the telepath sat upright again, but, this time, with no arms to support him, he fell backwards, his head cracking against the wooden headboard. He let out another cry, this time, one of pain as he felt strong arms wrap around him, calling out his name in a concerned tone. He was pulled up against a bare chest and for a moment he forgot it was Erik's and tried to push away, gasping out, "No please. No, not tonight, please."

As he managed to wriggle himself out of the metal-bender's arms, Erik looked at him, anxiety covering his features as he whispered, "Charles, what is going on?" He continued to struggle, trying to get away from him. Finally, the older man caught the younger man's face in both of his hands and repeated, "Charles, what is going on?"

Charles stared at Erik for a minute before he burst into tears and the metal-bender wrapped the shaking, terrified telepath in his arms, trying to sooth him. When he had finally calmed down enough that his sobs were simply shuddering breaths, Erik pushed him away and said for the third time, his voice considerably calmer than before, "Charles, what is going on?"

He was at war with himself instantly, wondering whether or not he should tell Erik only what he had seen in his dreams, if he should tell him what had caused the nightmare to begin with or if he should simply not tell him anything. He was leaning towards the last choice. Erik had a difficult enough life what with his own memories of the concentration camps he had been in as a child. He did not need Charles' burdens added to his own.

"Charles please…"

Erik's voice was desperate and before the telepath could convince him otherwise, he was speaking, spilling his darkest secrets to the man lying with him.

"My stepfather…he was a terrible man. He married my mother for her money and he detested me from the moment he met me. The first time he beat me I was six years old…and his son, my stepbrother, did the same. He was jealous of me because he believed that his father preferred me to him when in all truth he only wanted me for one thing…"

He instantly began shaking once more and he could not speak for several moments and when he finally could, he sighed and pressed his fingers to his temple. It would be easier to show it than speak it.

_…his stepfather snuck into his room late one night. At first, he was confused as to why his door was creaking open, but when he saw who it was, fear filled him and he instantly tried to get away, pushing himself out of bed and running for the door. _

_ He was thrown back against the wall. He cried out in pain as he looked up and saw Kurt Marko, his stepfather, standing above him, smirking. _

_ No words were spoken as he began to beat him bloody, putting out his cigarette on his temple, pressing his fingers over his mouth, so he his screams wouldn't wake up the entire mansion. Before he knew what was happening, his clothes were gone and the true torture began…_

_…he screamed in pain as his stepfather entered him, his fingers wrapped tightly around his throat as he whispered in his ear, "You can scream and cry all you want today, Charlie. We're all alone, so you can make as much noise as you like."_

_ He could not stop himself from shrieking in agony, crying pitifully, fear filling him as he wondered what the man might do to him tonight. His legs were wet with his own blood…_

_…backing slowly away from the man as he entered the room, he began stuttering, begging softly, "Please, not tonight. Please I'll do anything. I promise. I will do anything. Please just not tonight…please…"_

_ Before he could say another word his stepfather had him around the throat. He slammed him up against the wall and he cried out in pain, his head cracking against the plaster. He felt cool glass pushing into his mouth and he choked as alcohol was poured down his throat, burning his lungs…_

_…the alcohol helped him forget what his stepfather had done…helped him forget that the night before, his pelvis had been broken and he still could not walk correctly. He let out a sigh as he drank the scotch…_

_…she didn't believe he was alright, but he did not care. He had to keep her from finding out._

_ "I'm alright, Raven," he whispered, though his arms were wrapped around himself and he was rocking slowly back and forth. He was turning green as he continued thinking about what had happened the night before. "I promise."_

_ She was about to disagree yet again, but he threw up on bed, directly over the bloodstains that had been put there the night before. He began sobbing, trying to remember his life before this agony, but he was unable to. The only thing he knew anymore was pure pain, pure despair…_

_…now in college he was up until six-thirty, working, trying to forget what his stepfather had done to him. He was almost asleep when a man came into his room, informing him his mother had just killed herself. He was dismissed from class for the day and he spent those hours trying to kill himself…_

_…he was in the hospital again after trying to die. He had already attempted shooting himself, but he had put the gun down, too afraid to do it. After that he attempted hanging, but Raven caught him before he could go through with it. Then he was going to drink bleach, but someone walked into the laundry room at his dorm in Oxford. _

_ This time he had tried bleeding to death, but again, Raven had caught him and called an ambulance just as she had the night he tried alcohol poisoning, the same way his mother died. He thought it would be a bit poetic if that was how he died, considering he killed her…_

_…burning alive…it wasn't something he had tried yet, maybe it would work…maybe…_

_ Instantly, he shuddered, placing his hand over his mouth as he began shaking. "No, no, no…" he began whispering over and over again, "no, no, no, please…"_

_ "Mr. Xavier?"_

_ He looked up at his concerned professor and noticed that the rest of the class was looking at him as well. Before anything else could happen, he pushed himself up from his desk, hardly noticing as it scraped against the linoleum floor and hurried out of the room, not even bothering to take his school books. The pain was too much…_

_…sighing, he looked up at her, tears filling his eyes as he whispered, "Please, Raven, please…kill me…take that pillow, wait until I'm asleep and smother me…"_

_ She glanced at him once before breaking down into uncontrollable sobs. He immediately felt sorry for asking her to do such a thing, but he could not bring himself to wrap her in his arms and tell her he didn't mean it, because in his heart of hearts he did…_

Erik was in shock when the images finally stopped. He was sure there was more to Charles' past than he was letting on, but he was not going to push him.

As the shock wore off, anger replaced it and he whispered, "How dare he…how dare he hurt you like that...how dare he make you hurt so much that you are still terrified now…"

Charles shook his head whispering, "It's fine, Erik…please…I'm fine…"

But Erik was already shaking his head, saying, "No, Charles. No you are _not_ fine. You stay up until the crack of dawn working, while drinking scotch. Now I know why. There is more to it than the fact you missed me and the use of your legs. Your stepfather…"

He had to turn away, scowling deeply, to keep himself from yelling.

He was shaking from anger now, his fingers on Charles' biceps tightening. It was not until the telepath whispered, "Erik you're hurting me," that his grip loosened.

"I am so sorry, Charles," was all the metal-bender managed to whisper, tears forming in his eyes as the image of a small Charles screaming for help with no one to hear him.

This time, Charles wrapped Erik in his arms and whispered, "I'm fine now."

However, the metal-bender pushed him away and said yet again, "No you're not." They both lay in bed for a moment, looking everywhere but at one another, until the older man cleared this throat, took the telepath's face in his hands once more as he whispered, "Please…let me comfort you, let me make everything better…please…"

The younger man stared at him for a while before he finally took a shuddering breath and whispered, "Yes…"

With that, Erik wrapped him in his arms and Charles smiled into the older man's chest as he slowly fell back into unconscious. For the first time in almost a decade, he slept peacefully, not one nightmare plaguing his rest.

_Thank you, Erik, _he said to himself, _thank you so very much…_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I believe you should know that I wrote a lot of the memories from Writingisagroovymutation's fanfiction Breathing Space. I got the idea from there. I reworded it though, but I thank her for the idea. 3<strong>


	25. Erik's Lament

_How dare he…_Erik thought. His arms tightened protectively around the sleeping telepath on his chest. What Charles had shown him hours earlier—the images of pain, despair, and anguish—was enough to keep Erik awake throughout half the night, burning with rage and hatred for the man who had caused it. He knew there wasn't a way to erase the scars of the past; he knew that better than anyone in the world. But if he could, he would. For Charles. _How dare he. _

As Erik looked down at Charles, there was no doubt in his mind that he had been forgiven. Before knowing Charles's past, before the rage had returned in full force directed to the dead Kurt Marko, in the few precious moments that Charles had been willing to try, Erik had felt the love that the other man had poured out for him and knew that everything was going to be alright from that moment on. He was forgiven. He had Charles. So why did it feel like something was wrong? _Nothing's wrong_, he thought as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from Charles's peaceful face. _This is _exactly _what you've always wanted. _And it was. Erik gazed down at Charles once more: there was no trace of the horrid past that was now engraved in Erik's mind for the rest of his life. And yet, there that didn't feel right.

The night had passed without interruptions. When the pale sun started to shine through the curtains, Erik had just begun to fall asleep himself. A few hours passed before the metal-bender found himself awake once more, breathing heavily, wildly trying to distinguish between reality and the nightmare that had dared to rear its ugly head. Erik sat up taking care to not wake Charles. The nightmare was just the icing on the cake. There were too many negatives in their lives; negatives that could potentially destroy all the chances that he and Charles had to be together.

Erik quietly eased himself off of the bed and began to dress in the sweat-suit that he had used during the week of training back in September. He didn't know exactly what he was doing, in fact, he had no plan at all. Glancing back to the bed, Erik let out a heavy sigh. There was no doubt that he loved Charles—he loved the telepath more than anything else—but from the things that he had seen, and heard, and _felt_, the thought of the two of them felt unreal, like it was some sort of twisted dream someone had planted in his mind to make him suffer even more. Before slipping out of the room, Erik scribbled a little note down to let Charles know where he would be in case he awoke. A pang of sadness hit Erik as he placed the note where he knew Charles would find it, and kissed the younger man's head. Though he would return shortly, he felt like he was betraying Charles…again.

The massive grounds surrounding the Xavier mansion glistened brightly in the early morning sunlight. The snow had hardened overnight, and the air was crisp and fresh. Erik stood on the veranda, taking in the sight that lay before him. In the distance, the satellite dish stood as it had that day he had discovered his true potential. That day was the one bright spot in Erik's life other than the previous night. Suddenly, whatever trace of peace that Erik had accumulated was extinguished by the pain and anger he had felt. It was so much that not even thinking back to his happiest time could fix it. Erik trudged back inside, still fuming, and headed towards the library.

There within the stacks and rows of books Erik found solace once again with the large collection of Shakespeare. But soon, not even the words of wisdom the Bard expressed could conceal and terminate the thoughts that plagued Erik's mind. It was not until he heard the soft voice of a certain telepath that Erik felt at ease.

_"Erik? Are you inside the house?" _Even if he couldn't see him, the look of worry on Charles's face rang out loud and clear to Erik.

Removing his head from his hands, the metal-bender replied, _"Yes. At the back table." _ Erik straightened in his chair; he needed to be stronger, he needed to be the one Charles could depend on now. Within minutes, Charles was in front of him, half-smiling, half-grimacing at the sight of his friend—_lover?_—looking so pained.

In a soft tone Charles asked, "Please tell me what's wrong, Erik." The metal bender only looked up and shook his head.

"It's nothing so important that you had to come all the way here to find out." That had come out colder than he intended, but he knew Charles knew it was not meant to be so. It was now Charles's turn to shake his head in protest. Even without reading Erik's mind, he was still able to read his face. He had seen rage, sorrow, heartbreak, love, agony, and on several occasions joy. But what Erik expressed in the still moments that passed between them was only to be described as conflicted.

Charles came around the table and placed himself to Erik's side. The metal-bender continued to look away until Charles spoke. "Erik," he said softly, but with rising concern. "Please…I don't want to have to read your mind. Just please tell me what is bothering you." He paused for a moment as Erik drew in a breath. "Is…is it about last night? Because if it is I—I'm sorry, Erik. Truly, I am. It's just that…" Erik snapped around to face Charles, who had began to fiddle with the blanket on top of his legs.

"You think it was because of you?" Erik scoffed. It was unbelievable. Was Charles really blaming himself for everything that had happened? For every pain and grievance that was caused against him? It was almost laughable. "Charles…" Erik said firmly. The telepath looked up into the raging sea-storm eyes. _How can I tell you without you thinking me a fool? _Erik thought to himself.

"Charles, you have done nothing wrong. In fact…you have done everything right." This statement puzzled Charles, but decided not to press for questions as Erik continued. "You're starting a school for mutant children, you've averted a national, if not global, missile crisis…you help people. You use your past—" with that, Erik suppressed a shiver of rage that he knew Charles noticed. "You use your past," he said even softer, "to fuel your dreams and ambitions. Good and noble intentions that help everyone. If there is anyone else in this room who can say the same, then I wouldn't even be here."

He hung his head again. It was a lot harder expressing his feelings about this, especially to Charles, when he himself didn't even know what he was feeling. Charles took a minute to process all that Erik had said.

"What exactly are you saying, Erik?" He hesitated again. Erik could hear the words come out in a choked-back cry, "Are you saying that you shouldn't be here…with me?" That was almost enough to send him off the edge.

"No! I don't know!" Erik ran his hands through his hair. It was all too much. "Everything that you stand for: all the good that you want to do, the way you want the humans to accept us, after everything that _you've_ been through…that _I've_ been through…it makes no sense! I'm not saying that I don't love you. You know I do, you _know_ that I would do anything in the world for you…" This was true. If Charles had wanted the moon on a silver platter, Erik would die trying to bring it to him. But the look on the telepath's face hurt him too much.

Erik threw back the chair he had been sitting in and knelt in front of Charles. There were tears pooling behind the crystal blue eyes, and it tore Erik in two to know that it was all because of him. It was always because of him.

"Why, Charles?" he asked in a whisper. "Why did you forgive me?"

"I thought that was what you wanted."

Erik hung his head and grasped Charles's hands. "It is—or it was. But I wanted you more. I've always known that, but it makes no sense, Charles. We're too broken. Things have happened to us that can never be fixed…things that _no one_, especially you, should _ever_ have to go through. And I know that I've had a pretty significant part in that. But yet you forgave me. Are you really so selfless that you would forgive the person who single-handedly nearly ruined your life? How is that even _possible_?" He stood up and began to pace.

"Do you know what I've done, Charles? Oh, well of course you do. You did say that you knew everything about me when we met." The last few sentences were not directed at the telepath, who just sat by silently watching in despair. "I've killed people…I've witnessed death thousands of times over, and yet you love me. You love me so much that you forgive me for something that I _know _I should never have been forgiven for, but chose to pursue. And you…"

He couldn't even form the words. He couldn't allow what had happened to Charles all those years ago to be real by him confirming it out loud. There was no way he would bring back all the pain and fear.

As Charles watched, the tears no longer forced back but running freely down his face, he had to know where all this suddenly came from. "Erik," he whispered hoping the man would hear.

"How could anybody let that happen to you? How could no one notice?" He was shaking with anger, his own hot tears streaming from his eyes.

"Erik…" Charles said, this time a little louder. Still, the metal-bender kept up his rant.

"You didn't deserve that. Any of it. How could anybody let that happen? More importantly, why didn't you tell? If I had known you then…or if Raven had known…"

_"ERIK!"_ Charles's voice rang through Erik's head, stopping him mid-stride. The older man then came towards Charles and began to sob.

Charles muttered comforting words to the man kneeling on the floor wracked with grief and anger, but little could be done to appease him.

"I don't deserve you. I don't deserve any of the things you have to offer me." Erik rasped between sobs. He had never felt worthy of any of Charles's kindness, but yet he needed it. He needed to be with him like he needed the air to breathe. Charles was the only one who ever really understood, and Erik had never realized that until the last night. The two men stayed silent for what seemed like hours. It wasn't until Charles broke the silence, that Erik understood the meaning of everything he had just said.

"You're wrong." Erik looked up at the younger mutant ready to protest, but was stopped by Charles's hand. "You're wrong, Erik. Everything that you have been through has made you aware of more things than I could ever hope to be—or want to be—aware of. And for the record, you _do _belong here, with me. You know this, I know this, hell, even the kids know it! I forgave you because I love you, Erik. _I love you_. I didn't do it out of pity, or because the time was convenient…I did it because that's what one is supposed to do when one loves someone. They forgive each other. No questions, no doubt, no fear.

"And what's more is that you think you are the worst person in the world. You're not. Yes, you have made mistakes, and yes you did some things that wouldn't be deemed honorable, but do you want to know something? I don't care! I still love you, and I will continue to do so until the world ends." It was now Erik's turn to listen in silence. Had he really been so distrusting, so angry, that he didn't see the real meaning in all those days and nights spent together? He then felt even worse than he had before Charles came in.

"Charles, I…" Erik was again cut off. It was a new experience, but what Charles said afterwards was new too.

"No, Erik, Listen to me: to good that I saw in you all those months ago—that's still there. And I've seen it the whole time you've been back. And I want you to know something else, too: you deserve every ounce of whatever it is that makes you happy. And if that's me and being with me, then you can have me, because I love you, and I think we both deserve something good for us…"

Charles would have been able to say more if Erik hadn't attacked his lips with his own. When they pulled away, Erik whispered, "Thank you…for everything." Each word that Charles had said only confirmed what he knew to be true: that he was truly forgiven, and that they had each other. Straightening, Erik smiled down at Charles. There were faint lines now appearing around the corners of his eyes and light creases on his forehead. Erik stepped behind the wheelchair and began to head back towards Charles's bedroom.

The candles had long since burned out, a few velvety soft rose petals still lingered on the bed, and the ice that kept the wine chilled was now a bucket of cold water. As he placed Charles on the bed, Erik couldn't help but feel that no matter how perfect it all seemed then, the feeling that something was wrong had returned. It was unsettling, and what if something was truly wrong? Would he be able to protect Charles and everyone else? Climbing into the bed, Erik's mind began to ease as he felt Charles curl up next to him. His last thought before drifting off to sleep was, _You don't just forgive the people you love the most, you protect them. I'll protect you. _


	26. Light and Dark

This time when Charles awoke, it was not from nightmares, but from the sun streaming through the small part in the curtains that had been pulled over the windows by Erik the night before. He winced as the light hit his face and put an arm over his sky blue eyes, trying to block the brightness of the morning. He never had been a morning person. Though people expected it of him, he was what some people might call a night owl: staying up into the wee hours of the morning and then waking up when most people were getting ready to have lunch.

As he lay there in bed, he chuckled, remembering how Raven would have to wake him on the weekends, so his stepfather wouldn't. However, then, thoughts of that man entered his mind once more and he winced, thinking of how horrid it was, the way that man awoke him. He knew Raven had walked in on him once and had screamed at what she had seen. He'd erased her memory later, putting a new one in place of the old, one that did not involve witnessing the rape of her older brother.

When the thought left his mind, he noticed he was grimacing, tears were leaking out of the corners of his eyes, and his hands were clenched into fists, one gripping the bed sheets, the nails of the other digging into his palm. He hated this weakness, this inability to cope with his past when Erik had been able to do exactly this with his for the past twenty-one years.

He moved his arm slightly off his eyes as they snapped open in realization.

Twenty-one _years_? If that was truly how long Erik had been coping with what Shaw had done to him, then that would make him thirty-four years old, which was ten years older than the telepath. He gasped. Was the metal-bender really that much older than he was? Not that it truly mattered. To him love was love no matter the age difference. Although, he supposed it did get to a point where the love was insanity instead of romance.

However, speaking of Erik…he turned to the side of the bed the older man – the _much_ older man as it turned out – had spent in the night before and found the covers pushed back, revealing an expanse of white linen that was not filled by the metal-bender's muscular frame. As he noticed this for the first time that morning, he sat bolt upright before he remembered he couldn't sit up on his own without the support of his arms or pillows and he fell backwards, cracking his head against the wooden headboard for the second time in less than a day.

Pushing himself back up, rubbing the back of his head, grumbling curse words as he did so. He propped some of the pillows up against the mahogany before he pressed his fingers to his temple and began searching desperately for the mind of the metal-bender.

If he had not been so panicked he would have gone floor by floor, sweeping each one thoroughly. However, he scoured the whole house at once and almost instantly found that Erik was only down the hall a little ways in the kitchen. He was about to open his mouth and ask him what he was doing when he was interrupted by the man whose mind he was trying to contact.

_Shoo Charles._

His tone was serious, but the telepath could tell he was holding back a smirk.

Smirking himself, the younger man responded, "What are you trying to hide, Erik?"

_I said shoo, Charles, _was the only response he received and before he could say anything else the metal-bender's mind was lost to him. The only other time he had felt a blockage such as this one was when he had been wearing the helmet he stole from Shaw and he figured that it was this thing that was blocking him now as well.

Dropping his fingers from his temple, he closed his eyes, sighing softly and leaning his head back against the wood of the headboard. The thought of Erik wearing that thing, made him sad. It made him reach down and dig his nails into his legs until they bled. He only knew they were bleeding because he could feel the warm liquid on his fingertips and yet, when he pulled his hands out from under the blankets to stare at his bloodstained nails, he wasn't entirely sure the crimson was real. How could it be? He had not felt the pain that had put it there.

_And you never will again, _a voice whispered.

He closed his eyes, sighing. He had forgiven Erik for what he had done. He had forgiven him. He could not be thinking of going back on that now. Not after last night. He was more than his friend now, he was his lover and as his lover, he could not let him down by not growing accustomed to the loss of his legs now.

Charles was about to get up and go down the hall to see what the metal-bender was up to when his door opened, revealing the man carrying an old fashioned wooden tray with a plate that had several pancakes – or the Jewish version of pancakes – stacked atop it. Next to the plate was a smaller one with two sausage links and a small helping of scrambled eggs. On the extra space of the tray was a platter of margarine butter, a jar of syrup, a glass of water and a small vase with a beautiful blue flower sticking out of the top of the wavy rim.

"I did not know you could cook," the telepath said, chuckling slightly as the tray was placed on his lap and the older man, already dressed in his usual turtleneck and black slacks, sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

"You really don't think I spent all the years I had to myself eating out of dumpsters and microwave dinners?" It was meant as a joke, but the younger man could not find it in him to laugh, since there was a possibility that this was an actuality.

There was an uncomfortable silence after Erik's statement in which Charles slowly began eating. He knew the metal-bender didn't expect him to finish the whole meal, but he did expect him to eat a large portion of it. However, after the images that entered his mind of the older man wandering the streets lost, cold and hungry, trying to find scraps of food to eat, he didn't know if he could stop himself from shoveling the entire breakfast down his throat, even if he did end up retching it all onto the blankets he was lying beneath later.

_You're so ungrateful, Charles, _the voice of his stepfather snarled in his ear. _You've never been deprived of food or warmth your entire life and you believe you had a difficult childhood? How much more selfish can you get? _

He sighed and was about to apologize to Erik for being unable to eat all of the delicious meal he'd made him, especially when he always been lucky enough to have more food than he knew what to do with, but the metal-bender cut him off, saying the last thing he truly expected.

"I want to bring the Brotherhood to the mansion."

For a moment, he was confused. The Brotherhood? What was that? Then it dawned on him. _We're brothers, you and I…I want you by my side…_The Brotherhood he was speaking of was the mutants he had left with that day at the beach. Angel, Riptide, Emma, Azazel and Raven. One of the five of them was already here and that was his sister. The other four were still wherever it was Erik had been before he returned.

Carefully chewing his latkes, he pretended not to have heard him. He really did not know what would happen if the others came back. Especially Angel. She had left Alex, Hank, Raven and Sean, even after Shaw had killed Darwin. She hadn't questioned what he'd done at all. She had still left with him. That had to have had some sort of serious effect on the others.

"Charles. I know you heard me," the metal-bender said, catching on to what the younger man was trying to do.

Putting down his fork and knife, he looked up saying, "I don't think that's a good idea, Erik. Not only because I do not trust them, but because of the problems that would arise with the others. Do you honestly believe that Alex and Sean will not at least attempt to tear Angel in two after she left with Shaw when he killed Darwin?"

Erik sighed, turning away. "They're my team, Charles," he said softly. "I know it may be hard for you to understand, but they have become like a family to me over the past few months I have been without you. I have become close to all of them in different ways." The _except Emma_ didn't have to be said. It was clear he had never liked her to begin with and her becoming one of his own really didn't change that.

Turning back to his food, cutting another piece out of his latkes, he repeated, "I don't think that's a good idea." He pushed the bit of food around in the syrup before he brought it to his mouth, licking the sticky substance off his lips.

"Please, Charles," Erik said, his voice sounding almost desperate. "Give them a chance. You only met them once and even then you truly did not know them. You only saw the side that Shaw wanted you to, the side he put there purposefully, so you would fear them more and be less likely to fight them, so we would be less likely to win." When the telepath did not respond, he continued, "Everyone has two sides, both light and dark. You showed me that the day I moved the satellite. Have you ever considered they might be the same way?"

This time it was Charles' turn to sigh. He closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping his fingers loosening on his knife and fork as he went into to cut another piece. He licked his lips and turned to the metal-bender saying, "Yes, Erik, we do all have light and dark inside of us and we can choose to act upon either side. Depending on which you choose to be influenced by determines your character and after having seen them only show the dark, I don't know if the others will be able to see the light that the both of us can see."


	27. Welcome

After a rather quiet dinner—save for the occasional outburst from Alex and Sean—everyone sat at the table, unsure about what was to happen in the coming moments. Charles remained at the head of the table: Erik to his right, Hank to his left. The tension in the air was almost visible. Erik could feel Alex's eyes on him, tempting the metal-bender to try something to push the teen over the edge. Though they had been on good terms after a week of Charles coming into meals with a smile on his face, once this meeting was called, all forms of camaraderie had dissolved. Erik shifted his gaze to Hank, who seemed nervous, but remained solid as he could. _I wonder how long that'll last,_ he thought sarcastically to himself.

Even if he wasn't the telepath, Erik could already tell what everyone would think once he broke the news of bringing the Brotherhood to the mansion. Raven wouldn't be all that surprised, Sean would put up a fight, but then realize there was nothing he could do, and Alex and Hank would probably murder him on the spot for even proposing the idea. Erik suppressed a shudder as he thought about being blown up or ripped limb from limb. He had seen worse, and he knew he deserved it, but it was hard to think about. And even harder to think that Charles would be left alone.

The feeling of dread welled in the pit of his stomach. Something terrible was going to happen. Anytime anything good or wonderful had happened in his life, it was taken away. There was a reason he wanted the Brotherhood there with him. If Erik could prevent disaster by having those he knew who would cause it stay with him, with Charles who could help anyone, and if would ensure Charles's safety as well as everyone else's, the he would do it. He would do everything he could.

Erik looked over to Charles to start the meeting. It was only eight-thirty, but the telepath already seemed tired. He knew that it was a lot to ask of him—taking in those who were practically the enemy—but it was the right thing to do to help them. To keep everyone safe. Charles returned the silent "go-ahead" and cleared his throat, not that anyone was speaking to begin with. All eyes then turned to him in anticipation.

"I know that you all have various things to do, but Erik," his voice hitched as Charles turned his gaze to the metal-bender, "has some things that he wishes to share with us. Erik?" It didn't matter what Charles had said earlier that morning, Erik knew that he was against the idea. But he couldn't see that it was all for him why Erik was doing this. Erik stood, his eyes never leaving Charles. The guilt he felt rising as he stared into the telepath's crystal pools was enough to drown him. _It has to be done,_ he thought as he turned to address the others.

"I know that I don't have very much cause to request anything from you all," Alex snorted as he leaned back in his chair. Erik gave him a pointed look before continuing, "But I am asking that…" _You don't kill me here without saying goodbye to Charles first. _"You just hear me out, first." Besides Alex, everyone seemed confused, but remained silent.

"I've asked Charles to contact Emma Frost and invite them here to the mansion to stay, to which…they accepted."

Erik knew that the news wouldn't be taken lightly, but what happened next outweighed his expectations.

"What the hell were you thinking?...Seriously, dude, what's wrong with you?...Erik are you crazy?...Have you even the slightest idea what you've done?...How could you let this happen, Professor?..." At the last remark, Erik's voice rose over the others'.

"Do _not_ blame him for this!" The shouting ceased and silence took over once again. A few moments passed before Erik continued, his voice tight and agitated, "The world saw you—us—as threats. And they're right. We _are_ a threat, and we will always remain so _if_ it wasn't for Charles. He helped us discover what we can do—how we can help." He paused. It hadn't even been five months since he stood on the beach inCuba, practically declaring war on humankind. Oh how things have changed. It must have been spending all that time with Charles in the study listening to him rave and gush about opening the school. As much as the idea of being dominant appealed to Erik, he knew that it wouldn't happen by force or overnight.

Erik looked at those before him. They needed to understand just as he does. "You know, someone once told me that there was good in me. Not just anger and pain. I didn't believe him at the time, but now…" he turned his gaze to Charles. The telepath gave a small smile like a proud parent watching his son dedicate his graduation speech to him.

"But now, I see it more than ever that he was right. There is good in all of us…including the Brotherhood. They just need help in realizing it." He looked around once more. Raven understood what he was talking about, but the others still weren't convinced.

Sean was the first one to speak up. "What makes you think that they're just going to magically change and become decent people, huh?" For once, Sean had started to make some sense, and he was right.

"That's the thing," Erik replied. "I don't." There was a very distinct snort from Alex and Hank before Erik cut them off. "But I do know that all of us can try to help them. They were like our family—" He turned to Raven. She bowed her head and averted her gaze like she was ashamed of it.

"And don't forget, Angel was the first one we found. She couldn't go back to what her life was before, but that doesn't mean she doesn't deserve to be here just as much as you all do." _That'll shut you up for a while_. And it did. There were guilty looks all around the table. Erik knew that he had won this round, but the true challenge would come when they actually arrived. Everything would be put on the line then. It was only a matter of time.

The group was silent once more. No one knew what to say or what to think. Erik didn't even know what to say after his speech. What more was there to say? The Brotherhood was coming whether they liked it or not. There was no way to undo what had been done, but that was perfectly fine for Erik, especially if that meant Charles was safe from the only real threat that he saw. Before anyone could leave, Raven's soft voice broke the deafening silence.

"When do they get here?" She lifted her head and glanced around the table. Not only did everyone stare at her, but they then turned their attention to Erik for the answer.

"Tomorrow morning." There was a slight hesitation before he spoke, but that was quickly covered by protests and curses. Once again, there was no way to defend his choices. Erik just stood by and listened to the whining and ranting, pleading in his mind to Charles to just put him out of his misery right there. In response, Charles only chuckled and shook his head. It was the first time Erik had seen him fully smile that day. Somehow it was comforting, but it didn't make the situation any better.

"I know…I KNOW," he shouted above the noise, "I know that it is short notice, but it was convenient. The sooner the better, and what's done is done. There's no going back now. So I suggest that we all get some sleep, because tomorrow is going to be a long day." Alex was the first person to stand and make his way towards the door followed by Sean. Suddenly a thought ran through Erik's mind. Just to tick them off a little more he added, "If it makes you boys feel any better, Emma won't be joining us." There was an audible groan of annoyance as the boys left the room.

Hank and Raven were the only two left. Hank then stood and rubbed his eyes. He gave a curt nod to Raven and a quick "goodnight" to the professor. Before leaving the room he turned to face Erik, his eyes narrowed, but non-antagonistic. "I hope you know what you're doing, Erik." Once he was out of the room, Erik sighed and practically fell back into his seat. _So do I, Hank._

The next morning Erik awoke stiff and groggy. Though he had managed to capture a few hours of sleep, the anticipation of his Brotherhood coming to the mansion kept him awake for most of the night. It was only until Charles had coaxed his mind to sleep that he was able to relax. It was indeed going to be a long day. After dressing in his usual attire, Erik made his way to the kitchen where Raven was already up and running around.

"Oh! Erik, you scared me." She was busy pulling what looked like a loaf of bread out of the oven. The only problem was that it resembled more of a large cracker than something appetizing. There were muttered curses as she closed the oven door. Erik said nothing, but didn't resist the urge to poke the failed baking attempt with his finger.

"Why exactly are you baking, Raven?" He asked. The bread had no give to it. If anyone ate it, there would be several teeth missing later one surely to show up.

Raven gave an exasperated sigh before throwing off her apron in the mess of flour. "Oh, I don't know. I had to do _something_, but I guess I'm just…nervous." Erik knew she had a lot of mixed feelings about leaving their former team. As much as she wanted to see and be with her brother again, it was hard to leave those she had identified so much with after several months.

Erik opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the sound of the doorbell. He turned to Raven whose eyes grew as large as saucers. "Th-th-they're here." She managed to choke out. In a blink of an eye she ran out of the kitchen to the foyer. Erik followed behind her, his stride much more even and calm, though inside he was just as anxious as she was. Poised at the door, he turned the handle to reveal Angel and Azazel at the front, with Riptide behind them. Each held their own bags, but Angel hastily dropped hers when she spotted Raven. The two girls embraced each other in a fit of giggles while Erik shook hands with the other two men.

"Welcome, guys. Come on in." Erik said as he shut the door behind them. At that moment, everything seemed idyllic. But the moment ended when Azazel cried out for the others to duck as a beam of red energy came hurdling towards the new arrivals, blasting a hole through the heavy oak doors.


	28. Accident Upon Arrival

Charles woke up to what sounded like an explosion. He sat bolt upright in bed, his bare chest rising and falling with his rapid breaths. He swallowed, trying to get the taste of sleep out of his mouth, but the attempt was a futile one as he had known it would be. Still his closed his eyes slowly, pressed his fingers to his temple and tried to touch Erik's mind with his own.

It wasn't hard to find him. He was standing by the front door with the Brotherhood. Their minds seemed to be in complete disarray, all of them panicked, frightened, angry or a mixture of the three. He was confused as to why only for a moment. He was just opening his mouth to speak to Erik and ask him what was going on when a beam of bright red light blew the heavy oak doors off their hinges.

He pulled back immediately, letting out a gasp as he did so. This was not what he had expected. In fact, he'd thought the younger mutant had far more control over his anger than he was currently displaying.

Still, cursing, he threw the blankets off his legs, pulled on a nice button-up shirt, a cardigan, a pair of slacks and slippers before he carefully maneuvered himself out of his bed and into his wheelchair. As he passed the small table near the door, he grabbed the patchwork quilt that had been folded there and put it over his legs, before he pushed himself down the hall and towards the foyer. Having someone die because Alex was angry with Erik would not be one of the best ways for the Brotherhood and the X-Men to get to know one another.

He could hear the shouts of the Brotherhood as well as those of Sean, Alex and Hank the moment he left his room. This only made him hurry down the hall. He didn't even notice how much his arms were burning from how fast he had been pushing himself until he reached the foyer and a rather unpleasant sight met his eyes.

Alex was standing at the top of the stairs, somehow controlling his beam of bright red energy without the mechanism Hank had built for him when they were training before. Said young scientist was standing next to the other mutant trying to make him stop blasting holes in the wall around the door. Sean was trying as well, but not being as big and strong as Hank was, he didn't seem as committed to the cause.

As for the mutants that Alex was using as target practice, they were all standing huddled around Erik, who seemed at a loss for what to do. Angel looked panicked, while Raven appeared to be rather shocked. Azazel and Riptide seemed to be at a loss as to what to do and were simply doing what Angel, Raven and Erik were which was ducking the blasts. Charles noticed that, despite what Erik had said, Emma was there. She somehow managed to look bored and rather nervous at the same time.

Another blast rocketed down the steps and singed Erik's cheek. This knocked the telepath out of his thoughts and had him cupping his hands covered in fingerless gloves around his mouth and shouting, "Alex stop it! Calm your mind! Please!"

Either by coincidence or suspicious convenience, the younger mutant seemed to not have heard him as he directed his next blast at Azazel, who teleported to the other side of his rather small team before he could be hit by Alex's energy.

Charles was about to shout at him again when the next beam of red light flew directly in front of him. He flinched backwards as the shockwave from the blast knocked his wheelchair sideways. He crashed to the ground, crying out as his ribs struck the metal arm of the chair painfully. He was just pushing himself up, so the weight of his upper body was resting on his forearms when he heard an angry growl that he recognized all too well.

Opening his eyes, which had been tightly shut as he grimaced he watched helplessly as Erik dashed up the stairs after the younger mutant, a murderous look dominating his features. As he watched him, he realized there had probably been some words stuck into his growl, but whatever they'd been they were lost now.

The boys standing at the top of the stairs stared at Charles for a moment in shock before they realized the real threat was taking the steps two at a time towards them and they scattered.

As he watched Erik chase Alex down upstairs hallway, he began to panic. There was no telling what the metal-bender would do. He liked to think that the older man wouldn't kill the mutant boy, but with the burning rage in his eyes, he wasn't entirely sure what to believe. He didn't have to wonder for long however, as Erik caught up with the boy, grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him up against the railing that separated the hall upstairs from the marble floor of the foyer.

Seeing the terror in Alex's eyes, Charles hastily pressed his fingers to his temple and said, _Please, Erik, calm your mind._

They were the same words he had spoken to him when they'd first almost half a year ago and they had the desired effect now as they'd had then. Charles felt his rapid heartbeat slow considerably as the metal-bender's grip on the younger mutant loosened. He pulled him up off the railing and growled in his face, "Go down there and apologize to Charles."

Too scared to do anything else, Alex nodded. He walked shakily back down the stairs, skirted past the Brotherhood, who all seemed just as uncomfortable in his presence as he was in theirs and knelt down next to his professor saying in a voice that sounded as though he were choking back tears, "I'm sorry, professor. I shouldn't have done that. I promise I'll fix the door and –"

Charles held up a hand to stop the boy from speaking. He gave a sad smile and said softly, "I have plenty of money to get the door as well as the walls fixed professionally, Alex. There is no need for you to fix it yourself. However, I must impress upon you the seriousness of what you have done. I am not one to dish out punishments, however, I would like you to stay in your room for the remainder of the day if only so Erik's friends can grow accustomed to their…new home I suppose without feeling too terribly frightened. Do you understand?"

When Alex nodded, Charles did as well before he gestured with his chin towards the stairs, saying, "Right then, off you go."

Again the younger mutant nodded and walked dejectedly back up the stairs and to his bedroom on the second floor. As he watched him go, Charles realized that Hank and Sean still had not reappeared. However, he couldn't entirely say he blamed them. Erik had given them quite a scare.

Once he was gone, Raven, Erik and Angel – to the telepath's complete and utter surprise – hurried over to him, asking if he was alright or if he was hurt. He waved them away, chuckling, half amused by their concern. The metal-bender helped him back up into his wheelchair and once the telepath was sitting in it again, looking just as he had moments ago, the older man took his fingers in his own and looked into his eyes, trying to hide the sadness in his.

"Erik, I'm alright, really, I promise," Charles said, reaching up and carefully stroking the metal-bender's face with the back of his hand. Erik said nothing. He only captured his hand with his own and kissed the tips of his fingers before he turned back to the Brotherhood, muttering something about showing them to rooms on the third floor.

Watching him go, the telepath couldn't say he was altogether happy that they were here. All of them, especially Angel, were going to cause problems among the others. Angel had left them even after Shaw had killed their friend Darwin – a death that Charles still blamed himself for – and he knew they'd never truly forgiven her for it.

He let out a sigh, staring at the blanket that covered his legs and ran his trembling fingers through his dark hair, the cotton gloves on his hands creating static in his locks and forcing the strands to stand up on end.

It was going to be a rather long day.


	29. The First Two Days

As much as Erik wanted to believe that Charles was alright, he knew that the telepath was only telling half-truths. Deep inside he knew that Charles did not fully enjoy having the Brotherhood at the mansion, but Erik hadn't disclosed his other reason for doing so. The metal-bender then came back up to the other two gentlemen who remained in the front of the hall, the heavy wooden door behind them now sporting an eighteen inch hole in the center. He breathed out a sigh before motioning for them to follow him up the stairs to the third floor. Raven had already taken Angel away to her room where they would no doubt talk endlessly about what had happened in the past few months since they left. Azazel and Riptide followed behind Erik, muttering to themselves how large the mansion was. Erik suppressed a chuckle as he listened in. No matter who came into the mansion, everyone had the same reaction to its grandeur, including the Brotherhood.

Once the two other mutants were in their rooms, Erik set out to find Alex, who had been sent to his room after his attack on the guests. It was too early in the morning for him to have to deal with more stress, and he knew that Charles was feeling most of the pressure. He didn't even bother to knock on the door, and burst in on Alex sulking on his bed, music blaring from the small radio on the desk near the window. Erik didn't even have to move to shut it off, causing a fit of swears to come from Alex's mouth.

"What the hell did you think you were doing? Someone could have been hurt—hell, Charles _was_ hurt!" The youth said nothing and continued to stare up at the ceiling, ignoring Erik's rebukes. "Were you even thinking at _all?"_

"Of course I was," the younger boy replied. "Why do you think I did it? I don't want them here, and neither does Sean, or Hank, or even the professor, and you know it." Erik did know it. He knew it all too well.

"I know you said that you want to 'help them' and all, but that's a load of bull. So why don't you own up and tell me the real reason that those murderers are here before I try to kill them again?" There was no way around it. He couldn't keep it a secret forever. And especially if Alex was one of the people he was trying to protect, the boy had a right to know then.

"Well? What's the deal? Why are they here?"

Erik looked down in defeat and closed the door. "I wanted to bring the Brotherhood here because..." he let out a disheartened sigh, "because if they're here with us, then that would decrease the risk of them hurting anyone here. Mainly Charles. And he doesn't even know this. So I would appreciate it if you would not mention it to him or anyone else." He paused a second, Alex said nothing. He then added, "Something's not right. I don't know what it is, but something is going to happen, and when it does I want those I care about to be safe. That's another reason why they're here. It may have nothing to do with them, but we don't know that. And I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep anything from happening."

Alex remained silent. Erik now wished that he hadn't told the boy, but it was too late. He would have to know eventually—everyone would. And it was better for them to be prepared sooner than later. A moment passed while Erik stood to leave Alex in solitude. When he opened the door, he heard something that Erik would have never thought Alex would say to him.

"Hey," Erik stopped and turned to face him. He was still on the bed, but sitting up, his head bowed. The young man looked up to face Erik, who wore just as much confusion on his face as petty annoyance. It took Alex a moment before he nodded his head and uttered, "Thanks...I guess. For thinking of all of us." Erik nodded his head in reply and left the room, but not before turning the radio back on. It had gone better than he expected, and maybe that was a sign. As much as he didn't want to believe in signs or Fate, or destiny, Erik couldn't help but feel like somehow they were working in his favor...for now.

The day carried on without much incident from anyone. Erik figured he had scared Sean enough for him to not try anything, Alex was banished to his room, and Hank spent all his time in the lab anyway, but there were several occasions where something went amiss, and he knew that it was the result of some prank to harm the new guests. In the afternoon, Erik had led the three new house members on a tour of the massive estate with a little help from Raven. Along the way, Riptide had sudden headaches as if someone was constantly screaming in his ears, though no one was in sight; Azazel kept having his tail pulled causing him to teleport out of the vicinity, only to repeat the task once the mysterious pulling started again. Though Angel seemed to be the only one untouched by the pranks, her time came whilst turning a corner and walking into a wall of fly-swatters. After each prank, each mishap, each "accident," Erik could only sigh and pray that he didn't see the three other mutants in the house, or _they _would be the ones not able to see.

After the tour, Erik and the others dispersed. Charles had been seen little throughout the day, which worried Erik that he had shut himself up in the study again. He then thought of that very morning. No, Erik could not blame Charles for keeping his distance, but seeing as it was _his_ house, his absence was discourteous. The thought of going to see Charles ran through his mind, but he thought it best if everyone adjusted at their own pace. With that, Erik returned to the library to seek solace in the numerous volumes housed there until dinner.

At dinner, there was hardly any conversation. Charles ate with them as per usual now, and Hank and Sean had come out of hiding. Erik merely sat by in silence with everyone else at the table. There was no way of forcing everyone to get along, but he figured that the awkward and tense silence was better than having the house destroyed by fighting. It was in the middle of dessert when the silence was broken by none other than Alex.

"So what's your first name?" The clatter of forks ceased as all eyes turned towards Alex and then Riptide.

"Excuse me?" said the older mutant. His accent made his nationality apparent, but that was the only thing anyone knew about him.

"I asked what your first name is. Or your real name. Whatever you want to answer with."

Everyone continued to stare in shock. It took a few minutes before an answer came. "Janos. Janos Quested." Alex nodded then stood from his place. Walking over to the other side of the table, he stopped once he got to Riptide's side. Erik could see the panic written all over Charles's face. He himself didn't even know what was going to happen, but he was poised to restrain Alex if need be.

Instead of attacking, Alex held out his hand. "Alex Summers." He said with some restraint. Riptide shook the boy's hand and nodded in return. The two let go and Alex quickly went back to his seat. Once the dishes were cleared, Erik and Charles stopped Alex from leaving the dining room. Neither had any idea what had come over the boy who had just that morning blew a hole in the front door and the wall.

"Alex," Charles started, "That was a very noble thing you did earlier." Alex kept his head down, but nodded in acknowledgement. "Can you tell me what's suddenly brought about this change?" Erik was also curious to know.

Alex shrugged and said, "I don't know, I just thought that if they're gonna be here, might as well know each other's names." Erik was astonished. Had what he said earlier to him had some effect after all? It seemed so. Alex had left for his room, as well as Erik and Charles. The day was long and trying, and sleep came easily to Erik. But the peace and comfort of sleep did not last long, however.

* * *

><p>Erik awoke with a start the next morning to a shrill cry. Charles was already up and heading out the door. The metal-bender rushed after him and out onto the verandah. There they found Sean, his face as red as his hair, tears streaming down his eyes, and being held back by Alex. Across from them, Azazel stood unfazed by the scene. Sean cried out again. The others were then joined by Riptide, Angel, Hank and Raven, who came rushing out still in their pajamas.<p>

"What's going on? What happened?" Raven cried, slightly out of breath. Alex's grasp on Sean tightened as he began to thrash trying to get at Azazel. Angry tears streamed down his face, but he provided no information. The air was sharp and cold. Erik looked down to Charles, silently asking him what the problem was.

_ Already ahead of you, Erik, _was the reply. In a matter of seconds, Charles then shared with Erik what had happened.

_It was early, the sky was still a hazy grey streaked with pink and orange. Sean walked out onto the snow-covered grounds carrying an old shoebox he had found. Inside something moved. Sean looked down and hushed the creature inside. "We're almost there, Chester, don't worry." He said in dulcet tones. He carried the box to a far tree where bushes covered the base of the trunk. Kneeling down, he lifted the cloth from the shoebox to reveal a small brown and red rabbit, sniffing the frosty air in hope of food. Sean looked down at the rabbit in heartbreak._

_"I'm sorry Chester," he said stroking the soft fur of the rabbit. "I want to keep you, but if the Professor or Erik find out, you'll probably end up in a worse place." Sean then tipped the box over and gently pushed the rabbit out. From his jacket he then produced a small bundle of carrots and a few leaves of lettuce. Giving one last loving look to his little friend, Sean got up and took the shoebox with him._

_Along the way, Azazel was out enjoying the quiet solitude of the early morning. Things never seemed as terrible when the world was still for a few precious moments. He then looked over to the far edge of the grounds to where Sean was making his return back to the house. They acknowledged the other's presence with a nod, and continued on their separate ways. Sean continued to think of Chester. Little did the boy know that his beloved pet had begun to follow him._

_He must have been only thirty yards away, but he could hear Azazel's frantic curses in Russian. "Proklyatyi__̆ krolik!_ _Vzorvali zhivotnyh!" Sean turned around one second too late. Before him, Azazel's barbed tail had made its way through a small body with brown and red fur._

_"CHESTER!" Sean called out. He ran over to the horrific scene. The little rabbit lay limp on the snow, turning it a vibrant pink. Overcome with grief, Sean stood and faced Chester's murderer, ready to strike. Azazel merely looked down at the rabbit in disgust. Just as Sean unleashed his gift, Azazel transported himself back to the terrace. Not being far away, Sean sprinted after him. Once he reached the top, he was too saddened to try and hurt Azazel. Instead, he simply fell to his knees in defeat and let out a desperate wail._

Erik now understood what had happened, but he could not say the same for the others that were present. Angel was trying to help Raven and Alex soothe Sean, but it was almost useless. No one was giving up information. Riptide had gone to stand by Erik and whispered, "What has happened here?" Erik looked at Charles who shrugged, then to Sean crying on the cold ground.

"Azazel killedChester." Was all he said, trying to hide a smile. Hank overhearing him came up and asked, "Who'sChester?"

Erik was about to explain but was interrupted by another cry from Sean. This time, Charles was the one to suppress his laughter with a cough. The telepath then met the confused and slightly appalled looks from those around him, but shook it off as just having mis-swallowed

"It's sort of a long story." He then added to cover his mistake.

"Chesteris no one of severe importance, that is." Erik added. He knew he should feel bad for the boy-losing a friend like he did, even if that friend was a rabbit-but it was too funny not to laugh.

Hank and Riptide only shrugged and returned to the house. Azazel had disappeared, leaving the six of them outside. The girls had finally managed to get Sean to stand up, but Alex was the one to help him inside. The group passed Erik and Charles who tried to put on a solemn face, but to little avail. As Sean passed by, he looked at the professor then threw his head back and cried, "Chester! I'm sorry!"

In that instant, Erik flashed back to a time not long ago where he had felt the same agony as Sean. Though the situation was different, the emotions were the same. The feeling of hopelessness at the loss of someone so close. He watched as Sean was practically carried into the house by his friends. Charles could no longer attempt to keep a straight face, and soon began to laugh at the silliness of it all, but stopped once he caught sight of Erik's tortured expression.

"Is everything alright, Erik?" he asked, worry now replacing the amusement that had left as swiftly as it came. Erik straightened up and nodded.

"Yes. I'm fine. Let's go inside shall we?" Taking the back of the wheelchair, Erik and Charles made their way inside to the dining room where Hank had set up breakfast. In the course of the morning, Erik remained a quiet observer of the mansion. Everything was becoming surreal, and he knew that when reality hit him again, it would hit hard

* * *

><p><strong>And now a word from our sponser (meaning my coauthor): <strong>

**Hey all, this is Julie. Just wanting to let everybody know three things: 1) The Russian Azazel used is the phonetic version. I do not speak Russian, so blame Google Translate if it's wrong. 2) I _love_ animals (except for seagulls because they're annoying and freak me out), _especially_ bunnies. It's just that I was not "allowed" to kill off any of the other characters, so Chester was my only option. And 3) The reason for a lot of Erik and Alex interaction is due to the fact that they have similar characters (kinda, sorta, not really), and also because of another fanfic by Keiran that I read that made them father and son. I liked the idea so I thought it would be cool if they could have like a little father-son moment in this because I swear, if Erik did have a son, he would be just like Alex.**

**Just thought I'd clarify! Enjoy the rest of the story! ~Julie**


	30. The Light in His Eyes

Charles knew instantly that Erik was lying. He was not fine, but he didn't press the matter. He simply allowed the older man to wheel him back into the house towards the dining room. He was confused as to why the metal-bender was doing this until he saw the plates of pancakes, hash-browns, scrambled eggs and toast. There was a small platter of butter in the center of the table, along with a pair of salt and pepper shakers, a tub of peanut butter and a jar of jam.

The thought of eating this much this early in the morning had the telepath sick to his stomach. He turned to look at Erik, to give him a pleading look, but found that he was conveniently ignoring him. He turned back to the table as Erik parked him at the head. He watched as the older man began piling a plate high with food before he took the seat to his left. Once he had properly served himself – it was clear to Charles as well as everyone else who lived in the mansion why Erik always ate twice as much as everyone else – he began piling food onto another plate that was clearly meant for the telepath he was sitting next to.

"Erik…" Charles said softly, his voice full of exhaustion.

The man in question ignored him. The telepath could only watch helplessly as he put three pancakes, covered in syrup, two spoonfuls of scrambled eggs, three slices of bacon, five sausage links, and two pieces of toast smothered in butter, on a plate. The sight made his stomach turn. How on earth was he going to be able to shove all of that down his throat? Erik had been slowly working up his appetite again, but he didn't think he'd be able to eat all of that.

"Erik…" he said again, wrapping his arms around his middle, his voice now more of an ill sounding moan.

Still, he was ignored. Erik set the plate in front of him, before sitting down himself and beginning to eat as though he was afraid someone was going to take his food from him. As Charles watched he felt his nausea grow. He looked down at his own food, but it wasn't food he saw. He saw too much salt on the eggs, a bucket of lard on the toast, grease coating the hash-browns, sausages and bacon, and high fructose corn syrup all over his pancakes and the rest of the plate.

His arms tightened around his waist, trying to hold back the bile that was rising in his throat, but it was no use. Just as he had when he'd first had more than he could handle, Charles vomited over the arm of his chair, rendering the whole room silent. He hadn't noticed that, while he'd been trying to keep last night's dinner down, the dining room had filled up.

When he did look up after he finished retching, he saw that every eye in the room was trained on him. Raven looked worried; Erik had turned as white as a sheet with what appeared to be a mixture of shock, surprise and concern; Alex, Sean and Hank looked surprised as did the majority of the Brotherhood, though Angel seemed to hold the same worry in her eyes that the rest of the X-Men did.

Lifting his trembling fingers to run through his hair, pushing it back from his pale, sweaty face, Charles swallowed and said in a voice that was hoarse from vomiting, "I am so, so terribly sorry, please forgive me. I –"

He was being wheeled from the room before he had a chance to finish his apology. He didn't have to look over his shoulder to know it was Erik that was taking him from the dining room. He also didn't have to look to know that the metal-bender looked disgusted, probably with him. The thought that he'd let Erik down made Charles sad and he didn't say anything as Erik led him down the hall to his bedroom.

Once they reached the lavish room, the older man left the other as he headed to the bathroom. He turned on the warm water in the bathtub and once he was satisfied that it was warm as well as comfortable, he returned to the bedroom, stripped Charles of his clothing and carefully lowered him into the hot water, hoping this might make him feel better. He was as silent as the telepath throughout this entire ordeal. Once Charles was in the bath, he pulled a chair into the steaming, tiled room and sat silently next to him.

For the first ten or so minutes he was in the bath, Charles moved his fingers around, watching how they made ripples in the water. He stared at the wall, watching it sweat from the mass amount of steam that was in the air, making the room far too warm for Erik, but rather comfortable for him. He glanced at the metal-bender every now and then, only to see him sitting with his legs and arms crossed, staring off into the space directly in front of him. He looked rather upset and Charles figured it was him he was upset with.

He cleared his throat, licked his lips and whispered, "I'm sorry, Erik. I truly am. I should be eating more. I know that, but m-my body just can't take it yet. I'm so, so te –"

It was at this time that he noticed the older man was shaking his head. He silenced himself instantly as Erik said, "It's not you I'm upset with, Charles." He turned to him, the look in his eyes was one of despair, self-hatred and pure unhappiness. "I'm upset with myself."

"But why would you be…" Charles trailed off as Erik turned away, staring at the tiled floor this time when he spoke.

"I shouldn't have thought you would eat all of that," he said softly. "I should have known it would make you sick. Or rather more sick than you already are." Charles opened his mouth to protest, to tell Erik that he wasn't sick, but the metal-bender cut him off, turning to him quickly as he added, "Yes, Charles, you are sick. You're very sick. In fact, you're dying." His eyes moved downwards to his ribs that were all too prominent through his skin. "You've forgotten that I know what death by malnutrition looks like and it's _killing_ me that you look like the children I watched die in the camps."

Charles was really at a loss for words. The look on Erik's face was one of pure sorrow. He had never seen such unhappiness, not even when he'd told him of what his stepfather had done. The look on his face now was so new to him that he really didn't know what he was going to do to erase it.

The rest of his bath passed in silence. It wasn't until the third time Charles told Erik he wanted to get out that the metal-bender finally obliged and carried him out of the tub, wrapped soft towels around his fragile body. He placed him in bed, tucking the comforter around him and, brushing back the hair from his forehead, kissed the skin there. The only thing Erik said before he left was, "Please sleep. I know you're still not getting enough."

Settling into the soft, warm blankets, Charles closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. Though he didn't want to sleep, it would make Erik happy and after seeing the complete sadness written all over his features earlier, there was nothing he wanted more than to replace it with the happiness he'd seen in his eyes before then.

_There's good too, I felt it…_

Yes, there was good and that meant there was also happiness. Charles had lost his own happiness five months ago. He was beginning to accept that he would never truly be happy again, but the same didn't have to be said for Erik. Even though he'd been tortured all of his life with the memory of his mother's death and what he'd had to endure in the camps, that didn't mean that beneath all of that sorrow there wasn't any happiness.

As sleep overtook him, Charles vowed to find that happiness again, vowed that, even if his own genuine smiles and laughs were gone forever, that didn't mean Erik's had to be as well. He was going to find them and show the man they belonged to just how beautiful he was with light in his eyes.


	31. All Because of Him

Erik left Charles to sleep, knowing that he was still not getting as much as he should. Every time he looked at Charles, a little piece of his heart died with the knowledge of his past, and that he was dying right before Erik's eyes. The sun was shining fully through the large windows bathing the hallways with warm light. February was coming to an end, and soon the snow and cold would be washed away by the warmth of the sun.

When Erik entered the dining room once more, he found the others strangely calm. No one questioned him about Charles. No snide comments, no scolding from Raven or Hank—they just sat in their seats, eating, making quiet conversation with one another—the vomit had been cleaned up from the floor. _Hank, _Erik thought as he peered around the room, passing behind each chair until Angel stopped him with a small sympathetic smile.

"How's he doing?" she asked quietly, not sure if it was the appropriate time to ask such a question. Erik gave a small sigh before returning to his own chair.

"I'm not sure," he replied. _Lie. _He picked up his fork, but couldn't even look at his food. "He's sleeping now, but he should be fine later." _Even bigger lie. _He knew that it was wrong to say that Charles would be fine when Erik knew he wouldn't be, but he didn't want to worry anyone else. There were enough problems as it is.

"That's good." Angel nodded before returning to her own plate. The silence in the room lingered as everyone finished up. Within fifteen minutes, Erik began to feel restless. The atmosphere was uncomfortable, and nobody else seemed to mind it that way. He knew that there wasn't a way to make everyone get along without threatening to send the kitchen knives after them, but there had to be some way of bringing them together. After what had happened earlier with the rabbit, there was bound to be some unresolved tensions between Azazel and Sean—if it already hadn't formed into pure hatred by now—and Angel was still receiving the cold shoulder from the boys. Things had to change.

"It has come to my attention," Erik started, rising from his place, "that, well—you all hate each other." No one spoke; they only stared blankly at Erik or their plates. "With that being said, I think that we should all try to make an effort to get to know each other better." He looked around the table as their faces, each one of them twisted up in confusion or uneasiness. There was a moment that Erik almost wanted to laugh, but this was business. His gaze finally landed on Sean, a smirk pulling up on the corners of his mouth.

"Sean," the boy looked up from his food in surprise. His eyes were puffy and red, but he was calm. "Why don't you start us off?" Suddenly all eyes were on the boy.

"W-what do you want me to say?" he replied in a small voice. Erik shrugged.

"Just tell us about yourself. Anything you can think of." The second he added that, Erik immediately regretted it. Sean paused and looked down a minute before answering Erik's request.

"Well, my name is Sean Cassidy—or Banshee, whatever—and you killed Chester!" He pointed across the table to Azazel who rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. There was an audible groan as Sean's eyes began to well with tears. Angel—who was closest to him—hesitated a moment before reaching her hand out to pat his arm. Erik watched on, surprised that the boy would allow her to continue the gesture. What was more was that as Sean began to sob, he buried his face in Angel's shoulder. No one was more surprised than her, but she quickly comforted him.

_This is a good,_ Erik thought as Angel excused herself and Sean. He knew that Sean only allowed to be led out of the dining room because he was too embarrassed, but it was a good sign that he turned to Angel, even if she _was_ the closest one to him.

Once Sean was out of the room, Erik looked back at the table. Once again, his plan of bringing the Brotherhood and the "X-Men", as Charles so affectionately called his ragtag group of pupils, together had not gone to his wishes. The rest of the time was spent in silence. No one wanted to speak to one another, but no one wanted to leave the room as well. Finally the silence was broken, but not in a way that pleased everyone.

"Why did you bring them here?" Erik snapped his attention towards Hank. The young mutant's fur stood on end. Clearly he was agitated, but it was deeper than that.

"I'm sorry?" Erik replied feigning confusion. Hank looked squarely back at the metal-bender.

"I said, why did you bring them here?" The words came out in a growl.

Erik shrugged and replied, "You know the reason why. I told all of you at dinner. I want Charles to help them, and he does too. So that should be enough of an answer for you." His last words were low and menacing on the edge of "If you ask any more questions, I'm going to tackle you." But Hank didn't seem to pick up on that part. Instead he kept pushing.

"I know that's what you said, but I have reason to believe that you have ulterior motives…you always do." At that moment, Alex made his way into the conversation.

"Dude, just let it go. He said that he wants to help them, so let him. Chill out, Hank." The scientist looked at Alex in shock and betrayal.

"You want me to chill out?" he directed towards Alex. "Tell me something, Alex, weren't you the one who blasted an _eighteen inch hole_ through the front door two minutes after they came? You were the one who was bitching and whining about how they're here and asking me why, and now you're telling _me _to calm down? What the hell happened?" It was very unlike Hank to swear, and Erik had to hand it to him that when he was angry, he didn't hold back. Alex gave no response, but sat back in his seat. There was nothing to add. It wasn't his secret to tell, and Erik knew that. But this was not Alex's fight, it was his and his alone.

"Hank," he said in a cool tone, "there's no need to get upset with Alex. Just because he can accept the fact that some people can change for the better, doesn't mean he's letting you down. Your problem is with me, not him." Hank returned his glare to Erik, who just sat calmly in place.

"Then why don't you just own up and tell us all the _real_ reason why they're here?" Everyone seemed to be holding a collective breath as Erik stood from his seat. There was no use in denying it now, but he could try.

"_They_, as you so call them, have names, Hank…Personalities, hobbies…" Erik pointed to towards Riptide, then looked back at Hank. "That's Janos—or Riptide—and he cooks probably better than I do." He then pointed towards Azazel, "And that's Azazel, and he likes being out on the ocean. And you may not know this, but Angel was a stripper when we found her. You have no idea what kinds of men she had to deal with before, and being a mutant doesn't exactly help her status. She didn't want to hide and crawl back to what she was before she left—she couldn't." Erik stared Hank down until the latter shook his head.

"That still doesn't give me reason to trust any of them. You say that there's good in them somewhere, but I've never seen it—except in Angel…before she left with Shaw after he killed Darwin." Shaw. _Damn you, Hank._ Erik had never forgotten what Shaw had done to him: how much pain and suffering he had endured over the years. But hearing the deceased's most recent killings brought forth everything. It took all he had for Erik to not send the suit of armor in the corner flying at Hank's head.

Instead, he chose a more indirect route. "Well that's too bad, Hank, because they're not going anywhere." He nodded to the others to leave the room. Hank watched them through narrowed eyes full of contempt. Erik gave one last glare before strolling out of the room and into the study. Charles was still asleep, but that was fine by him. He didn't want to have to expose Charles to such a display. Taking a new bottle of scotch from the cabinet, Erik poured himself a glass and sat on the plush sofa.

He sat there with the one glass for what felt like hours, thinking of all the ways that the fiasco in the dining room could have gone. As he drank the last few drops, Erik realized that if it had come down to him leaving with the Brotherhood again, the gut feeling that he had been having about something terrible happening wouldn't be because of them or some outside force. It would be because of him.


	32. To Save a Life

By the time Charles opened his eyes once more, night had long since fallen, although he wasn't sure if it was within the last twenty-four hours or if he'd slept for longer than that. He wouldn't put it past himself to do so. His body was immensely weakened by the fact he had been eating next to nothing and sleeping just as much for the past five months. He had probably slept for a lot longer than he'd initially intended.

Glancing around the room, he was unsurprised to find it was empty save for himself. A quick mind-search of the house revealed Erik to be in his study, though the metal-bender's mind was foggy and it took the telepath only a second to realize that it was because of the mass amount of alcohol in his system.

Despite the protests of his overly tired body, but not wanting to waste anymore time in bed, Charles carefully maneuvered himself from the mattress to his wheelchair. He grabbed the folded blanket on his nightstand to throw over his legs, before he pushed himself out of the room and down the hall to Erik's current location.

Though he'd grown used to waking up without Erik always next to him due to the fact he was working on something else or doing something else, the haze in the older man's mind worried the telepath. He certainly hoped he hadn't had enough to drink that he could now be dying from alcohol poisoning. He prayed that the metal-bender was much smarter than that, but thinking about the man's past now, he realized that there was a good chance he wouldn't have hesitated to drink himself to death. He hadn't exactly been happy most of the time he'd been alive. The scars that covered his body displayed this all too clearly.

It was true that, thanks to his stepfather, Charles had scars of his own, but none of them were anywhere near as severe as Erik's. As he pushed open the study door to find Erik unconscious on the couch, he realized that it had been terribly selfish of him to tell the tortured man about his own past when he already had so much to deal with. In fact, it was more than less likely, he had forced him to drink the amount he had to begin with. He was probably thinking about Charles' stepfather as well as his health and couldn't stop himself from drinking the bottle of scotch dry. Pushing himself over to the couch where the metal-bender lay, Charles decided that this was the truth.

He'd been out of breath by the time he had pushed himself halfway down the hall and when he'd reached the study, it had taken half of the rest of his strength to push open the heavy mahogany door. The rest of his strength was depleted pushing himself to Erik's side and now that he was there, he could barely find it in himself to lift his hand to the older man's forehead to check to see if he had a fever. Somehow, he managed to do this and was thankful to find his forehead was nowhere near hot or cold enough to be considered ill.

_He's going to have one nasty hangover tomorrow morning, _Charles thought, taking deep breaths in an attempt to prepare himself to help the man back into their bedroom.

* * *

><p>Later, Charles would never figure out how he managed to half carry Erik from the study to the bedroom without killing himself. Needless to say that by the time he had done this as well as gotten the older man into bed, he was exhausted himself and slept quite soundly for the next eighteen hours.<p>

Erik awoke long before Charles did and went outside to jog around the mansion several times. When the telepath awoke to find himself alone, yet again in bed, he located him near the rear of the house. Confused as to what he was doing there, he pressed his fingers to his temple and whispered in the other's mind, _Erik, what are you doing?_

_ Jogging, _was the only response he got. He thought about prying and asking why, but decided against it in the end. He had long since learned that trying to get anything out of Erik only resulted in him saying nothing at all.

Pushing himself out of bed, Charles took a quick shower before he got dressed and headed into his study.

Erik was acting strange. He didn't normally drink and he was sure that the metal-bender didn't get up at the crack of dawn to jog around the mansion simply to stay in shape. There had to be something else behind it. What it was, however, he didn't know.

Trying to push the concerning thoughts of Erik and what he might possibly be going through currently out of his mind, Charles locked himself in his study, parked himself behind his desk and began to work. He worked almost obsessively, not that he never had before, but it seemed as though he were even more engaged in his papers than he was normally. He didn't notice the telltale sounds of the rest of the house waking up as well, until he heard a knock at his door that nearly had him jumping out of his skin.

Looking up from his notebook, filled with notes as to how he was going to start training with Angel as well as Janos and Azazel if they so wished it, he said, "Come in," returning to his work the moment he'd spoken, expecting his visitor to be Erik.

"Professor, we need to talk."

The voice was that of Alex Summers, not Erik Lehnsherr, though the way the younger mutant spoke, he couldn't say he was all that surprised to see him. Especially after the previous day's episode of him vomiting at the breakfast table. The look on Alex's face was one of utter concern mixed with anger and something that looked like betrayal. For the first time in a long time, Charles was nervous as to what someone else was going to say to him.

Swallowing hard, he gestured towards one of the chairs that sat near the fireplace, saying, "Alright. Please, sit down, Alex."

"Are you going to sit with me?" the boy asked.

Charles looked up from his notebook. It wasn't a question the man had been expecting. He had thought of going around his desk to join Alex by the hearth, but a part of him – the workaholic/professor part – told him to stay where he was so he could continue working. He had to get this done before spring when he wanted to start his initial training as well as schooling.

However, this idea was no longer a valid one when he saw Alex's expression. Carefully closing his notebook, his hands shaking as he placed his pen inside to hold his place, he cleared his throat and said, "V-very well."

It did not escape Alex's notice just how much effort it took for Charles to simply push himself less than halfway across the room. In fact, it seemed to make the reason he'd come in the first place all the more important, especially when he saw just how hard the professor was breathing once he reached his destination. It was as though he had just pushed himself from the mansion to nearby satellite and back without stopping, instead of only the ten feet from his desk to where Alex was currently seated.

Once Charles had caught his breath, Alex leaned forwards, placing his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together and looking an awful lot like the man he was speaking to, before he looked into that man's bright blue eyes and said, "Erik said you're dying."

This wasn't entirely the truth, but it was clear to anyone who lived in the mansion that their professor, the man who had brought them all together wasn't long for this world. Still, the way the younger mutant spoke the words made the telepath swallow hard and attempt to come up with a logical explanation for his current state of being. However, when he found none, he simply didn't respond, confirming the boy's suspicions.

"I know why you're dying too," he eventually said after Charles' moment of silence. "It's because you refuse to eat correctly and you don't get enough sleep. You're in here working constantly on things you've already long since finished or don't need to have done for months because you think that's better than realizing you can't walk because of your best friend."

When the telepath still said nothing, Alex sighed and continued, "I think you should know that its killing us, watching you die like this. Hank, who never gets upset about anything was about ready to tear Erik limb from limb at breakfast yesterday because of what happened to you. Angel, who never cries, was on the verge of tears. And Erik…I can see in his eyes that what's happening to you is killing him far more quickly than it's killing any of us, which makes sense, since he's your best friend, but…"

Alex cut himself off. Charles knew, even without reading his mind, that he was thinking of the time he'd projected to the entire dining room what had happened between him and the metal-bender in this very room when he'd first arrived as well as wondering if there was any truth behind it. He gave the telepath an expectant glance as though he was sure he was about to get an explanation, but the man kept his mouth shut. He wasn't going to have the rest of the mansion know about his and Erik's love life, unless he had the other party's consent to do so.

"Anyway," the young mutant said finally, standing, "that's all I came in here to tell you. I just thought you had the right to know what you're doing to the rest of us, so you can think about it and maybe come up with a decision as to whether or not you should stop."

Without another word, Alex left the study and its only occupant to his thoughts.

_…you're dying…I know why you're dying…you refuse to eat correctly…you don't get enough sleep…_

Up till now, Charles hadn't really thought that he was in any immediate danger, but after hearing Alex's speech, he was starting to doubt the voice inside his head that kept whispering to him repeatedly, blocking out all other voices, _You're fine, you're fine, you're fine. _It was only now that this voice was being silenced and replaced with one that whispered instead, _You're dying, you're dying, you're dying…_

He was dying. It wasn't something that had crossed his mind in a very long time. In fact, the last time he'd thought about death, about the fact he would soon be dead, were the many times he'd attempt suicide and had been sure that this time, this time he was going to be taken away from the pain and despair that this world held and be transported to another one, a better one where those things could not touch him.

However, Charles Francis Xavier was no longer a suicidal, depressed college student. He was a content, if somewhat broken adult to had to keep it together because he was starting a school for mutants and how could he do that if he was dying?

Alex had been right. What he was doing was killing everyone else and he had to stop before not only he ended up dead, but someone else did as well for he knew that someone else would be the man he loved, the one he cared for most: Erik Lehnsherr.

* * *

><p>For the next several days, Charles tried to do things he hadn't for quite some time: he attempted to eat at least half of everything that was on his plate, even if he ended up revisiting it later; he tried to get in bed before three in the morning, even if he had more work that he would like to do, but could, in all truth wait till he awoke.<p>

As this went on, the shadows under his eyes slowly began to go away and he also began to regain some of the weight he'd lost.

Erik seemed very pleased with what was happening. In fact, he was so pleased that he held Charles' hair back from his face when he vomited his dinner back into the toilet after he'd eaten. This wasn't happening as much as it had before, but it was still a common enough occurrence that everyone gave him nervous looks whenever he was seen at the table, which had become less and less often thanks to his retching. He'd taken to eating in the study with Erik again. Occasionally, when he was feeling particularly healthy, he would go into the dining room and eat with everyone else, but it seemed that he either ended up truly regretting his decision or being very thankful for it.

He had started laughing again and smiling when he did join the rest of the mansion for a meal. This made Erik's heart swell and the first time it happened Raven had to leave the room to cry in the hallway. Angel waited a moment before following her. The rest of the evening was continued in silence, but everyone kept glancing towards the head of the table to see if the smile on their professor's face was still actually there or if it was a figment of their imaginations.

Truly, Erik had almost had to leave the room to cry happy tears as well, but he somehow managed to keep his composure and stay in the dining room with Charles and the remaining children. He noticed Alex wiping away a few stray tears one of the times he looked up from his plate. Little did he know it was because the younger mutant had just realized he'd saved the professor's life.


	33. Todo para la familia

When the cold dreariness of February gave way to March, the occupants of the Xavier mansion embraced the change. Since the talk Alex had with Charles—which Erik immediately discovered after dinner one night—the mood and atmosphere shifted. The silences at dinner were comfortable, as if everyone actually _enjoyed_ being there together. There were no complaints from Alex or Sean, and Angel even seemed to be in favor with both sides once more. This was what Erik had intended. Things were actually going right for once…and it scared him. There was still an ominous feeling in the air that hung over the mansion like a storm cloud waiting for the right time to unleash the lightning and rain, and past experiences taught him never to get his hopes up. And yet he did.

He knew that he was overreacting, but Erik could not let things get out of hand again. Retreating to their room after a brief session in the study, Erik did his best to be happy for Charles, who was showing signs of strength again. _This is what you wanted, remember? _He told himself as he laid his head down. Staring up at the ceiling, Erik could not help but feel that he really wanted something more.

The thought gnawed at him all night. He drifted in and out of sleep several times, but when he woke, the first thing on his mind was always that _something more. _Being the early riser that he was, Erik slipped out of the warmth and comfort of the bed he shared with Charles. The telepath was snoring lightly—a very good sign—still within the safety of his dreams. Before heading towards the bathroom, Erik just watched him. The sun was still rising, sending bright streaks of pale pink, orange, and yellow into the room illuminating Charles's dark chestnut hair. He was at peace, like he should be. Not wanting to disturb him, Erik crept silently to the bathroom and shut the door.

Emerging from the bathroom minutes later, Erik just stood and watched Charles in fascination for what seemed like the hundredth time. It amazed him that for someone who had experienced about as much pain as he had, Charles always remained hopeful and saw the good in everyone, even those who did not deserve it. And that is why Erik loved him so much. But it also enraged him. It killed him to know that someone as good as Charles was hurt in such a way that it made Erik want to destroy the next inanimate object in his path.

He had tried drinking, but that only made it worse. The thoughts of Charles in pain coupled with his own were still there after the bottle was empty. And considering the closet object next to Erik was a priceless French vase from the 1800s, he decided that jogging was a more appropriate outlet for his anger. The morning after he had finished off a bottle of scotch by himself, he ran to clear his head and found that it was the perfect time to just vent to the wind. And this is what he geared up to do that morning. Before heading out to the back of the grounds, Erik placed a light kiss on top of the rumpled mess of dark curls.

Once outside, Erik stretched on the verandah then took off down the steps to the sprawling grounds of the estate. The snow was packed down hard, but was growing thinner as the sun shined throughout the morning. The air was ice cold and pierced Erik's lungs each time he drew in a breath. But this was how he liked it. Soon, his mind began to wander to everything and nothing, finally resting on Charles as usual. Things had changed drastically from what they had been with the telepath not eating or sleeping properly. Erik had Alex to thank for that. He knew that without a thorough guilt trip, Charles would be knocking on death's door at the moment. By his fifth lap, Erik had forgotten all about Kurt Marko, Charles trying to kill himself, and Shaw, at least for that day.

* * *

><p>Erik passed by the dining room on his way to the study to check on Charles. He knew that the telepath would be in there up to his ears in papers and books. Rounding the corner, voices from the other side made the metal-bender stop. It wasn't right to eavesdrop on others, but when the voice was that of the man he loved, all sense of propriety vanished leaving only protectiveness in its stead.<p>

Erik listened closely as Charles's soft voice, now stronger than before, addressed the second party.

"_Buenos dias, Janos._" There was a muffled response the Erik could not hear, but it sounded pleasant enough.

"_Uh,_" Charles hesitated, _"Lo que tiene?"_ There was a silence before Riptide spoke, this time addressing the professor in English.

"I can speak English if it is easier for you to understand, professor…" He wasn't trying to be rude, but it made Erik chuckle.

"Oh no!" Charles cried out. "Please, don't feel like you have to accommodate me by speaking English. My Spanish is rusty, so I'm grateful for the practice." Erik shook his head. _Always the gentleman._

He continued to listen to their conversation. It was amusing to say the least. Charles wasn't joking about his Spanish being out of practice, though. The man's accent was horrible, he was constantly asking if he was correct in the verb tense, and on several occasions he jumbled words together to create an entirely different meaning to the phrase he wanted to communicate. But Janos just answered thoughtfully and continued to indulge the professor. The two men talked for a few more minutes, just polite conversation, until Janos asked a question that neither Charles nor Erik had expected.

_"Puedo hacerte una pregunta?"_ His voice was low, but gentle.

_"Si."_ Charles replied.

There was a pause before Janos asked, _"__Cómo__respondió tu familia a__sus… poderes__?"_ Erik's eyes widened and he imagined Charles's did too. He knew that Charles wouldn't tell him the whole story—or even a part of the story—that was between only them. But he couldn't help but wonder what Janos's own family thought of his mutation.

"Oh…well…_que no sabian hasta que fue demasiado tarde. Por qué?"_ Charles replied then asked in return.

Janos's low voice returned as he answered, _"Me preguntaba si esto es lo que una familia es como aceptar." _There was a hint of sadness in his reply. Erik knew this type of sadness well. Not knowing where he belonged, not having anything to personally call his own. But now it was different. He had Charles, and the kids, and everything seemed fine. Better than fine! But feelings like what Janos expressed don't go away overnight.

_"Familia?" _Charles asked. There was an slight uncertain tone, to his reiteration, but it was warm, almost disbelieving. _"Esta es una familia?"_ Erik could hear the smile in his voice. Janos laughed quietly before confirming Charles.

_"Por supesto que es_." Erik didn't need to be in the room to see Charles smile. He could feel it radiate in the hall. Truth be told, he was smiling too. They were a family. All of them—even Azazel and Sean, though they still had their differences and Sean wanted to rip Azazel's tail off. They were a family. And Charles held them all together.

Erik snapped out of his reverie fast enough to hear Janos move towards the door of the dining room where Erik was conveniently perched with his ear to the door. He backed up several paces as Janos opened the door, but turned to face Charles once more.

_"Gracias, professor…por traernos aquí." _Erik knew he meant it. He spoke for everyone.

"_De nada." _Erik stepped out from behind the corner just as Janos passed by. They nodded hellos and Erik sprinted into the dining room once the former passed down the hall. Before Charles had a chance to pick up his fork, Erik flicked it out of the way and practically attacked him with a kiss. When he pulled away, the color of Charles's face matched the deep burgundy carpet as he tried to think of a coherent sentence as to what had just happened.

"I—um, what—wh—uh…" he stammered. He was rarely at a loss for words, but Erik had a habit of making him forget everything. The latter gave a small laugh and shook his head.

"I just wanted to, that's all." Charles took a breath in and nodded. Erik sat next to him, filling his plate with his own breakfast. The others began to file in through the doors, sitting down and helping themselves. Sean and Angel got into an argument over the last piece of bacon, and Raven just sipped her coffee barely listening to anything anyone was saying, a dreamy look in her eyes. Erik was not one usually in favor of scientific research, but from his observations that morning, he concluded that they were, indeed, a family. He gave a quick glance at Charles and smiled. They both had a family now.

* * *

><p>That night Erik returned to the bathroom before joining Charles for a night of well-deserved sleep. He washed and dried his face, lingering a few minutes to peer at his reflection. There in the mirror he observed the man staring back at him. He was not as worn as he once was. Still tired, but with a light in the steel-blue eyes that had not been there before. It was different, and frightening. It was something that had been missing for most of Erik's life. The warmth, the security…the love. He didn't want to let it go.<p>

He headed back to the bedroom and placed himself under the covers. The full moon shone overhead shedding pale light into the room. Erik gazed at the stars, the moon, and listened to the gentle sounds of the night. Turning on his side, he gazed at Charles's sleeping form. They were a family now, and no matter what was coming, Erik would do everything to protect them.

* * *

><p><strong>Translations (they're not exact) :<strong>

_Todo para la familia = _Everything for the family

_Lo que tiene?_ = What is it?

_Puedo hacerte una pregunta _= Can I ask you a question?

_Cómo__respondió tu familia a__sus poderes_ = How did your family respond to your powers?

_Que no saben hasta que fue demasiado tarde. Por qué? _= They didn't know until it was too late. Why?

_Me preguntaba si esto es lo que una familia es como aceptar = _I was wondering if this is what an accepting family is like

_Esta es una familia? =_ This is a family?

_Por supesto que es = _Of course it is.

_Gracias, professor…por traernos aquí = _Thank you, professor (teacher)…for bringing us here.


End file.
